Traître
by Daytimeninja
Summary: “Well, before we begin I think you ought to know who launched this attack.” Ludwig leaned in. His expression hardened and he quieted his voice. “The Motherland sent them.” My first fanfic! Please R&R. Real names used.
1. Chapter 1: Attaque

Ok, my first Fanfic! After about a month of changes and rewriting… It's finally here! And one more thing: When you hear Ludwig's personality, you might immediately think, "Omfg, he's like Auron from Final Fantasy X!" Well, yes. I know, I've got a bit on a crush on him, and decided to incorporate his character into Ludwig, just this once! :3

**IMPORTANT!** Chapters will be released every two weeks to a week and a half! Expect Chapter 2 at around the 20-25th of April, kk?

Alright. Enough talk. I present to you Traître. The translation is from the French language. It means traitor.

"America will never be destroyed from the outside. If we falter, and lose our freedoms, it will be because we destroyed ourselves." - Abraham Lincoln

* * *

Traître

"Alright, Al!"

"Alfred! Alfred! Alfred!"

"Y-you can do it, brother!"

As I entered that soccer stadium, I already felt like a hero. The roar of the crowd, the screech of the referee's whistle, I was already running down that artificial turf. I felt the wind whip the sides of my face, I loved it. Now, most of you would guess I'm the Football type; Buff, tall, rowdy. Not all of the time. Strategy is what's important. That was why I spent my time there.

As the red team closed in on my left and right, I figured I had no choice but to pass forward to Baker. Baker's pace lessened as our team closed in for a defensive tactic. I signaled with a wave of two fingers for Baker to pass back to me. He nodded and brought his leg waaay back, like a pitcher winding a throw. The soccer ball sailed past the horde of red team members, making its way towards me.

I smirked.

"Give 'em the Blindshot!" A spectator in the crowd roared to me. I looked around. The calling of the crowd only intensified after the comment. Looks like I had no choice. The red team was coming in fast, but I still had a clear shot at the opposing goal. Well, it was now or never. As I prepared for the shot, all time seemed to slow.

Every blink lasted a long time. After that, I just decided to close my eyes. The sounds of the outside world silenced; I felt alone. I took a deep breath, focusing energy into my right leg. A slow, rumbling clamor sounded above me. It was probably a plane or something. As the tremor of the red team's legs approached, closer and closer, I released.

I scored! I felt the exhilaration and adrenaline pump blood in my ears. My eyes opened instantly.

I didn't see any thrilled team members. I didn't hear the crowd exploding in cheers. The heavenly breeze was replaced with an devil-like explosion all around me. Before I knew what was happening, I was running for my life, dodging chunks of the stadium that hurled towards me. I looked around frantically. I was searching, searching, trying to find my brother, anyone I knew.

I looked over my head. Missiles. I was able to calm down and tried to read what the missiles were engraved with. But my concentration was knocked out by a smack in the head. I spun around, fear enveloping me. Even though I knew who it was, the shock was overwhelming.

"Ludwig?" I choked on the question. "**Ludwig?** I thought you were… You're supposed to be-"

"Dead," Ludwig answered, face straight and composed despite the raining of shrapnel and rocket parts. He wore a billowing dark green coat. Black boots came up to his knees, concealing half of his dark military pants. His coat was only wrapped around his shoulders, freeing his large, muscular arms. His toughened expression sent shivers up my spine.

"Come," He urged in a low voice. "We've got a lot to talk about." I swallowed and weakly followed Ludwig. A million questions raced through my head. What was Ludwig **doing** here? I thought he was killed a year ago by his brother, and Gilbert wasn't a guy you'd want to mess with. Ludwig guided us into a storage area inside of the stadium. The wall was steel and secured with columns. It seemed pretty safe here.

"Ok," I started, regaining my confidence. "Why- Why are you here? No, no- How are you here?" Ludwig glanced at me and sighed. He sat on one of the benches and removed his coat, revealing a horrific array of scars and whip marks.

"You won't believe," Ludwig half-laughed bitterly, "how I even survived." I covered my mouth in disgust.

"He did this to you?" I referred to his brother.

"Partly," Ludwig grunted, resting his arms on his knees, his back arched and head low. "The other half was from the trouble of finding you. You should be grateful. I'll be protecting you now."

"What do you mean?" I questioned. Everything was so unclear and blurred, and I was confused. Ludwig noticed right away and explained.

"Well, before we begin I think you ought to know who launched this attack." Ludwig leaned in. His expression hardened and he quieted his voice.

"The Motherland sent them."

"…W-wait. You mean THE Motherland? Mother Russia?" Nothing was making sense, dammit! It was 2017, my ties with Russia were fine! We were actually getting along to some extent.

"What can I say to make you feel better. Ivan wants your head on a silver platter." Ludwig had meant it figuratively, but knowing Ivan Braginsky, current dictator of Russia, nothing seemed impossible anymore.

"S-so… What do you expect me to do?" I said, raising my voice. Ludwig stood up, swinging on his coat all the way. He buttoned it up and swiftly left the storage area. I followed, slightly irritated that he didn't answer me. He wasn't helping at all. Why was he here? I know he said something like to protect me, but Ivan couldn't possibly want me dead? And besides, I'd be able to fend for myself. My country would be just fine without Germany lending a hand. Sheesh, but this guy wouldn't leave! I ran through the debris of the attack into my undamaged (Thank you, God) convertible, and Ludwig, without even warning me he was already in the back, allowed me to scream like a helpless little girl! … That could have been worded differently.

"What do you want?!" I yelled, flinging my pair of sunglasses at him. Not like they'd be any use, the sun was blocked out from the dust the rockets blew in the air. Ludwig caught the sunglasses an inch away from his face, not flinching at all. Showoff.

"We're going to you're house," Ludwig commanded. "Pick up the essentials. Nothing more. Then we head north." My eyebrows raised.

"North?" I repeated. "But north is-" My heart skipped a beat.

My brother was still trapped in the stadium.

"We're not leaving yet." I told Ludwig, unbuckling myself in an attempt to leave him.

"Yes, we are." Ludwig replied firmly, clutching my shoulder. I yanked away from his grasp. I snarled at the stubbornness of him.

"You want me to leave my brother to die?" I asked, my voice cracking. Ludwig's eyebrows knitted together. He seemed to understand, at least.

"…Fine." He sulked. "But we have to hurry. Ivan could be deploying conscripts as we speak." I secretly thanked Ludwig. If I could just leave with my brother, I'd listen to all that he'd order me with. Once again, though, Ludwig stopped me outside the convertible.

"You'll need some protection," He concluded. His belt was strapped with guns and knives. "Take this." It was a standard Luger. Not a bad pistol. Semi-automatic, too. But my hands were shaking when Ludwig handed it to me. It was strange, because I read about guns. I studied them and thought they were pretty cool. But when you're given something like this, your palms get sweaty, you get nervous. That's exactly what I felt as Ludwig and I silently passed through the ruined stadium. What relieved me was the cluster of people grouping up. Not many seemed hurt, so I breathed a bit easier. Maybe my brother was one of them. Maybe he was ok and we could go home and forget this nightmare.

"Matthew?" I called, walking through the masses of people. I didn't get a reply, just a few turning heads. I wasn't going to give up so easily, though. After seeing so many anxious but determined people, it was hard to give up anyway.

And for some reason, I just had a feeling that Matthew was alright. I couldn't explain it. But I knew I couldn't just let him come to me. The stadium (especially after the attack) was unstable and a lot of areas were blocked off. And if Matthew WAS hurt, he wouldn't have the strength to crawl through and of the small openings. As I worried, Ludwig kept calm and tapped on my shoulder. He pointed to the direction he wanted to go. I nodded and followed.

Ludwig and I came across a row of injured people. Women were tearing pieces of cloth and wrapping them around the wounds of frightened individuals. It was so… Sad. I felt bad when I entered the same room. It made me feel lucky that I wasn't hurt.

"A-Alfred?" A weak voice called. I looked down the rows of the people. I smiled.

"Matthew!" I replied, running to his side. Matthew sat up right, his golden-blonde hair damp and filled with dust. He was constantly rubbing his right eye, his trademark curl sticking out awkwardly. I hadn't realized how much I missed him, how important he was to me. I grabbed Matthew and hugged him, so relieved he was alright! I could have hugged him all day if it wasn't for Ludwig.

"There's blood on your shirt," Ludwig pointed out, his eyes narrowing suspiciously. "What happened?"

"Oh…" Matthew started nervously, twitching a little. He was still holding his hand to his right eye. "I think someone was bleeding behind m-me… Y-yeah… That's p-probably it-"

"Take your hand away," Ludwig demanded impatiently, losing his cool tone.

"N-no, I really shouldn't-"

"**Now.**"

Matthew flinched at Ludwig's harsh tone. With a regrettable expression, Matthew removed his hand. I held my breathe. What was Matthew hiding, especially from his brother? Tears filled Matthew's eyes. Or should I say "eye".

Because in place of his right eye was a pitch-black socket.

"Y-you… Your…" I stuttered. Matthew burst out crying.

"I'm s-so sorry! When the rockets came they hit really close to me, and o-one send a check of c-concrete and my f-face; It came so qu-quickly I-I…" Matthew fell to his knees, tears dripping onto the rubble of the stadium. My smile completely faded, replaced with a look of horror. My brother was half blind all because of that bastard and his sick mind?

"I'll kill Ivan!" I screamed, kicking dust into the air. "I'll kill him! He's a sick son of a-"

"Alfred!" Ludwig ordered. His eyebrows knitted together. "You're causing unnecessary noise. Throwing a tantrum won't make Matthew feel any better."

"I don't need you to remind me!" I jeered. "And why won't you even care? You're not helping one bit!" I knelt to the ground and flung a piece of rubble at him. I missed by about a foot.

"Put yourself in Matthew's shoes," Ludwig continued on. "If we want this suffering to stop, we'll have to infiltrate the Motherland." Ludwig paused to help my traumatized brother to his feet. He now hid the right side of his face with his bangs. He adjusted his glasses, sniveling as he stood up. I offered to help him walk, rudely pushing Ludwig aside.

Suddenly, an ominous rumble sounded above us. Ludwig cursed under his breathe.

"Conscripts," He muttered. "This could be bad. Follow me." Ludwig cautiously unbuttoned his coat, in case he needed to pull out a weapon.

I ran alongside Matthew, who finally got a grip and pestered Ludwig for a weapon.

"Lemme at 'em!" He called strongly. "If they hurt Alfred, I'll… I'll-"

"Quiet." Ludwig hushed. "I don't need more trouble then I already have." Ludwig paused to look at me. My face burned with embarrassment and hate. "If I have to protect both of you," Ludwig continued, ignoring my cold stare. "Then I'm going to need some help."

I wasn't really paying attention; I was listening to the sound of approaching conscripts, and I was worried for Matthew. There was a steady trickle of blood leaving his eye socket, and if it wasn't stopped soon, Matthew might pass out.

I took Matthew to one of the nurses. Now a long bundle of linen enveloped his wound. Matthew, although properly treated, wasn't doing so well.

"A-Alfred…" Matthew beckoned faintly. When he started to sway, I ran to his side an steadied him.

"You've lost a good amount of blood," Ludwig remarked. "Let's get you to the convertible and back home. If it's still standing…" I didn't thank Ludwig for that. It was almost certain we didn't have a place to stay.

I wouldn't stay there anyway.

Matthew collapsed in the back of my red convertible. He huffed and sweated, moaning viciously as more blood trickled out.

"Matt!" I shouted, grasping his hand. "Please, calm down! You're making it worse!"

"Ng… But I f-feel like my head's g-gonna explode!" Matthew shrieked, clutching his scalp in an attempt to rip out is hair.

"Ludwig!" I called to him from the back seat. "What's wrong with Matthew? He's in a lot of pain… Not like he was a few minutes ago…"

"There might be a piece of concrete still in his head," Ludwig explained calmly while revving the engine. I was glad he couldn't see my face. "It's probably aggravating him. If that's the case, we'll need to get him to a hospital."

"Oh, gee," I said in a completely flat tone, my eyelids closed halfway in annoyance. "You see, Ludwig, all of America is covered in Russian shit right now, so a hospital is not an option."

"Then we leave the country," Ludwig answered.

At that moment, Matthew was so uncomfortable his arm muscle contracted and he punched me in the chest.

"Ow!" I flinched. "Matthew, we'll get to that hospital soon," I stared into his frightened violet eyes, "I promise." I rested Matthew's body across mine, his legs propped on my lap. Matthew was still sweating and occasionally threw a fist. His shirt was bloody and torn, and his glasses were cracked in the center.

I looked down to see my white soccer uniform turned charcoal gray from the dust. My hair was matted and greasy; I desperately begged for a shower, Ludwig said we'd have time for that later.

"Ludwig," I said, boredom taking over me. "Are we there yet?"

"You don't want to play that game with me."

"Sorry."

We had been traveling for a few hours, and the scenery was still not changing. Not that there was any. We drove silently through the west side of California. Even as we entered to countryside, deep depressions from the rockets were scattered throughout.

I kept wondering to myself what I'd gotten myself into; what was going to happen next? I wondered if there was anyway to stop, or even reverse, all of this.

"Ludwig," I started, staring into the sunset. "You said we'd leave the country. Where, or who, will we go to?"

And for the first time, Ludwig smirked.

"We're going to visit," Ludwig ran his fingers through his bleach-blonde hair, "an old friend."

* * *

Oh, boy! Finished! I'd like to thank my friend for nagging me about completing the first chapter, and to all the reviewers *WINK WINK* that have critiqued my work! And by the way... This story is serious. I'm not kidding. There will be deaths. There are traitors, if the title doesn't give it away. Expect a dark, twisted plot from the mind of a hormonally stressed-out girl. Yeah, and I have a friend who will kill me when her favorite character dies... Technically, I'm spoiling it, but NOT spoiling it at the same time. Wierd, huh?


	2. Chapter 2: Assassin

Whew! Chapter 2, folks! Lots of planning for this one. But nonetheless, fun to write. **Expect chapter 3 around May 3rd - May 7th.**

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Ludwig drove into a stable gas station. The small town we entered was on the coast of California, only a short distance to the vast, outward expanse of the Pacific Ocean. A few lone palm trees swayed eerily, their great leaves charred black from the attack. The asphalt beneath us created a bumpy ride; I shook like a rattlesnake's tail in the back of the car. Ludwig instructed all of us to keep our heads low, as to not attract attention, but the vibrations of the car kept me from sitting still.

Matthew dozed into a light sleep, his muscle spasms halting altogether. I moved a strand of hair from his face. He, on the other hand, was perfectly silent, his golden eyebrows resting upward, softening the expression on his face.

"It's because he's stopped fidgeting so much," Ludwig commented. He drove under the roof of the gas station, parking at the gas pump. He unbuckled and left the car, closing the door as softly as he could. "I wonder if the gas line is still connected…" He mused. " Even though the shore's only a few miles, it wouldn't be good if Matthew started to walk…"

Ludwig clutched the gas pump. Nothing happened.

"I don't think I have my credit cards with me," I confessed to Ludwig, rolling down the window as I said it. Ludwig grunted in agreement. He unbuttoned his coat, tore it off, and threw it on the car's roof. Ludwig took a dagger from his belt with one of his muscular arms (Damn, I was jealous!) and stabbed the gas tank. A trickle of gasoline poured from the gash. The metal creaked and groaned as if it felt pain. I rolled my eyes.

"All bronze and no brain," I muttered.

"Did you say something?" Ludwig turned, clearly annoyed. I coughed.

"N-no! 'Course not!" I laughed. Ludwig smirked, turning his head back to the gas tank.

" I thought so," Ludwig pointed to an empty five-pound gas container. "That there," Ludwig directed. "Can you get that for me?"

I nodded. Carefully, I removed Matthew's legs from my lap, opened the door, set his legs comfortably down again, and gently shut the door. I jogged to the container. It was a faded red, and grimy underneath. Plugging my nose from its awful stench, I dropped it in Ludwig's hands.

"Thanks," He mumbled sarcastically. He set the container upright so it caught the dripping fuel. "There," He concluded. "That should do it."

As we waited for the bucket to fill, I had a few questions for Ludwig.

"Why are we going to the coast? For some boat, or something?" I asked. Ludwig leaned against one of the columns that supported the roof. He folded his arms, and kept his head low.

"Unbelievably, there are still radio stations broadcasting around the country, a very small amount, of course, that are giving updates regarding the Motherland," Ludwig explained. "I was listening when both you and Matthew were asleep."

"And?" I pressed on, lifting the now-full container.

"And conscripts are invading from the north," Ludwig emphasized. He yanked the container from my hands; the gasoline sloshed in all directions.

"To America?!" I exclaimed. I couldn't believe those bastards! "Haven't they done enough?"

"Apparently not," Ludwig grumbled, pouring the fuel into the open car's fuel tank. " They might sweep the country; check out the damage."

"So," I thought, rubbing my temples. "So how many people would they need to search all of America?!"

"You misunderstood me," Ludwig continued. He finished filling the tank. He set the bucket down. "They're briefly glancing from place to place. I don't think they were necessarily after something, so they're not going to care for the majority of the country. Ivan would give the word for it. And he hasn't."

"But I'm worried," I argued, "for Matthew. If leaving by boat is the safest way, I I'm for it."

"There will be emergency medical equipment on board, and most likely a doctor," Ludwig mentioned. My expression lightened. "I don't know if he'll be experienced enough to perform surgery, but he should stop Matthew's discomfort."

I was in a better mood after the information, but there was still something on my mind.

Something… Disturbing.

"Hey, Ludwig?" I asked, my eyes fixated on the small fissures of the concrete ground. "We passed a sign- A few minutes ago."

"Yeah?" Ludwig stood up straight. Apparently I noticed something he hadn't.

"There was this sign," I continued, my voice wavering in uncertainty, "in Russian. And by that there were conscripts. They were all dead-"

"Get in the car." Ludwig urged abruptly. I was taken aback, and when I tried to ask what was going on, Ludwig answered, "We're being watched."

"What?" I whispered, my eyes widening in fear. My hands shook as I clutched the handle of the car door. I couldn't move.

"Alfred," Ludwig demanded, his voice dangerously low. "Get in the car. Now!"

Suddenly, gunfire! My instincts told me to drop to the ground. The shot woke Matthew up, who started to bang on the car's windows. His screaming was muffled by the windows; it was impossible to understand him.

Another bullet tore through the air, smashing the windshield. The glass flew in all directions; Matthew ducked his head, his hands automatically guarded his face.

"Out of the car!" Ludwig yelled. "Get out of the car!"

"Make up your Goddamn mind!" I screamed in frustration on the other side of the car. Matthew faintly nodded to Ludwig, hastily trying to unlock the door. A third bullet fired, missing me by mere inches.

"Go back where you came from, you nasty little gits!" A voice ordered. "Leave or I'll set fire to your sorry arses!"

"H-huh?!" I exclaimed. I traced the voice to a low hill, about 50 meters to our right. Unmistakably, there was a sniper, perched at the top of the hill, dressed in all black: black turtleneck, beanie, and pants. He was positioned shrewdly behind a low-lying bush, whose leaves were burnt and blackened from the attack, its leaves wilting away. His Springfield (by the look of it) was pointed directly at Matthew, who noticed, and scrambled into the back of the car, losing his right shoe in the struggle.

"Wait!" I called. The sniper snorted.

"What, you've negotiations, I presume?" He joked darkly. "You're conscripts! But with no accent? Absurd!"

"You've been mistaken," Ludwig answered calmly, raising his hands in a surrendering manner.

"Oh, really?" The man asked incredulously. He stood up, making his way towards us. I noticed his face was obscured by a ninja-like mask. Sweaty, blonde hair clumped in front of his eyes. When he met Ludwig at almost eye-level (The man was much shorter, but refused to be intimidated), he turned my way.

And for the first time, our eyes met.

"Bloody hell!" The man yelped, leaping back. "Alfred!"

"Arthur?" My confused expression quickly switched with a grin. He tore off his beanie and mask, revealing all of his short, blonde hair and the biggest eyebrows you've ever seen.

"I can't believe it!" Arthur shouted, running up to me and assaulting me with a bear hug. My breath came in short, happy gasps. "Blimey, when I saw the damned rockets fallin' out of the sky, I was sure you and everyone else had been fried to a crisp! Good to see all of you in top condition."

My eyes widened, and then closed halfway in guilt. Ludwig turned his head away; his expression unreadable.

"Well," I said, avoiding Arthur's curious eyes, "not… Everyone."

"Alfred." Arthur asked, gradually raising his voice. He clutched my shoulder, trying to get me to look at him. "Alfred. What happened? Please, you can tell me."

"Matthew, he-" I sighed, "… He lost his eye to Ivan." Arthur's grip lessened, he stepped back, his shoulders sagging.

"Al, I… Don't know what to say."

"Then don't say anything."

Ludwig had interjected into our conversation, for which I was grateful; I felt Matthew's saddened gaze pierce through my back.

"We're heading west, to the coastline. Meeting up with an old friend," Ludwig continued. "Yao."

"Yao?" I asked. I never heard the name, and I never took the time memorizing last names.

"Wang Yao." Matthew answered. "China, don't you remember, brother?"

"Precisely." Arthur said. "And let me guess; Ludwig is going to Wang in search of another bodyguard for you two, am I right?" Arthur's eyebrows lifted and he smiled at the end of his speculation. "You know, I could-"

"No, you couldn't." Ludwig interrupted coldly. "Thanks for the help, but you're no expert. Wang will more than definitely loan a man or two." When Arthur huffed in irritation, Ludwig added, "But I won't mind if you tag along."

Arthur smirked.

"That's what I wanted to hear."

…………….

"I flew from London to Phoenix, Arizona. Business called me over, you know. A problem with our trading had brought the matter up. Shortly after my arrival, the rockets… Well, I needn't explain that, but anyway, afterwards, I wandered into an armed goods shop and equipped myself there. I knew the Motherland wasn't done yet, best to be prepared.

"On my way to the coast, much like yourselves, a bundle of conscripts had hammered down a sign a ways down the road. I assumed it was directed to the survivors, but the majority of us don't know Russian, those communist fools… Ahem. Continuing, so I sniped them down! Serves them right, it did."

"So you were the one!" I exclaimed, relieved that everything was being put together, like the pieces of a puzzle.

"We saw the mess you made," Ludwig stated, still keeping his blonde head lowered, " and it needs to be cleaned up. Otherwise Ivan will know."

"Blimey, does the bloody man know everything?" "Possibly." Immediate answer. Ludwig cupped his chin in thought. "He's certainly well informed. But that's not our main problem. If Alfred's not off the continent in the next few hours, Ivan will assume he's dead or roaming America-"

"And he'll look for Alfred either way?" Arthur responded. "Then I propose we get in the car and make a beeline for those boats." He pointed into the iridescent distance. A long, precise row of ferries were anchored in the water, rapidly being filled with hysteric passengers. "We'll smuggle onboard and plan our next route from there, agreed?"

There was no need to reply.

…………….

The ferry we entered was dark and crowded. There wasn't must room to walk around, and I was constantly shoved around by other passengers, and by the tilting and rocking of the boat.

I hated boats. Who likes them? They're always moving, float in the middle of fucking nowhere, and icebergs! I have never traveled north by boat and never will.

Arthur intruded my muse by telling me our group was sitting near the group of shady-looking people who smelled of drugs and never broke their bloodshot stare at you. Yippee.

Matthew, unbelievably, nestled on the shoulder of an uncomfortable Ludwig, who was starting to color.

"Shut up." He mouthed at me. I shrugged, my hands waving back and forth like Feliks' usual stance.

"Didn't say anything, dude," I chuckled. I sat next to Matthew, his back rising and falling slowly. His hand wrapped around Ludwig's neck. Arthur noticed as well and snickered.

………..

"Mm… Mn…" Matthew sounded, rubbing his eyes.

"Hey, bro," I said softly, holding a plate of food for him. "We've been on the boat for about an hour. The crew didn't tell us how long it'd be." I put the plate in Matthew's lap. He sat upright, his arm leaving a relieved Ludwig.

"Pancakes!" He said excitedly. He wolfed the holy food down, ignoring the death glares he got from the group of the suspicious men. I smiled. I hadn't seen Matthew smile for a while. It was a good feeling, to see someone you love laughing as if everything was back to normal.

But it wasn't. And it never would be. At the time, I had no idea this would be the last time I'd see Matthew smile like this.

Because the closer we got to Asia, the more pissed Ivan got.

I could feel it in the air. Everyone was tense. It was strange, because everyone on this boat was fleeing to escape Ivan's wrath, but in actuality, we were slowly getting closer to him. The idea was crazy enough to send shivers down my spine. I didn't like Ivan. Didn't know a person who did. Besides Natalya. But she's a different story.

Matthew finished eating, and sat back, resting of Ludwig's side. Ludwig swore silently.

"Ah… I feel better!" He exclaimed, stretching and sighing. "And, Arthur?" Arthur looked up, surprised to hear his name called. "Where's Francis?"

Arthur was silent. I noticed a slight twitch in his right hand. "Arthur?" Matthew asked again. Arthur didn't respond, but stuttered a few failed replies.

"Where is Francis? **Where is papa**?" Matthew asked, his eyes widening as Arthur shook his head.

"If I told you," Arthur answered, choosing his words extremely carefully, "you wouldn't believe me-"

He was cut off by a loud, wailing object piercing the air, launching itself through the ship's side.

The bullet missed me by about an inch.

By impulse, Ludwig jumped on me and nailed me to the floor. As awkward as it was, he saved my life from another bullet, nailing into one of the shady men. Screams and cries echoed in the metal ferry. Ludwig got off of me and led me to a broom closet. He locked the door from the outside, securing it with a chair.

"Don't move," He said through the wooden door. I shivered. Why? What was this about? Was the bullet meant, I swallowed.

For me?

I desperately yanked at the door handle, trying to escape the small, cramped closet. When I succeeded in opening the door, I opened it a fraction of an inch, just to get a good look at the commotion. The first thing I noticed was Ludwig holding a man's arms back. The man had a mask on. He glared at Arthur. Arthur walked to face the man, eye-to-eye.

"Release me!"

Arthur smiled bitterly.

"I thought so." He removed the mask.

Francis Bonnevoy.

* * *

Dun Dun DUN! Ah, plot twists. How I love them! Many more are coming, believe me. And Arthur, you are so damn fun wto write when it comes to dialogue! Geez, I'm like, in ecstasy while writing about Arthur. He's not even one of my most favorite characters, but I still love him. If I didn't, a few friends of mine would be waiting out my door with a shotgun and grenade... X) Okey-Dokey, See y'all back in early May.


	3. Chapter 3: Rébellion du Nouveauné

Yes! Chapter three! Boy, am I proud. After the previous plot twist, sheesh, I was really at a loss for what to do next. If Francis was "evil", what would happen to Matthew? And then I thought, "We need a badass character! *Gasp* Gilbert! Perfect!" And that's pretty much how HE got in the story XD. And to an anxious Hikari Kame, Wang has appeared! Who doesn't love China? And to an anxious lanuageaddict, Arthur has more lines! XD Ok, Ok, sorry about that… By the way! Please check out my poll! Just click on my username and there should be the question: 'What stunt should Ludwig perform on the story Traitre?' or something like that.

**Chapter 4 will be released: May 17th****. Yay. I finally have a stable release date!**

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"Papa?"

Francis didn't answer. Matthew's eyes started to water.

"P-papa-"

"Do not call me that!" He snapped at the Canadian. Matthew stepped back, clutching his left shoulder with fear. What happened to Francis? Why was he acting like this? Most importantly, why was he trying to kill me? Francis stole a glance at Matthew and sighed.

"I cannot tell you why I am doing this," he explained, "unless I have a death wish." Ludwig's grip on Francis' arms tightened. He didn't seem convinced.

"You mean to tell us you've been working for Ivan. All this time?" Ludwig asked, unusually calm. Francis fidgeted; his knees buckled together and his head hung low.

"…No."

"Don't lie to me!" Arthur roared as his palm made harsh contact with Francis' face. Francis recoiled in pain, squeezing his eyes shut. Ludwig didn't even loosen his grip. He was as infuriated as Arthur was.

"I'd explain, but I can't!" Francis yelped. He started to shiver.

"Ludwig, let him go," I urged. "You're hurting him." Ludwig tossed his head at me and snorted.

"What, you've got a death wish, too?"

I took that as a "no." Arthur paced back and forth, his gaze fixated on Francis. His back was arched over; he took long steps, like a general or a detective.

"What happens to you if you tell us what you're up to?" Arthur inquired. Suddenly, Francis burst out.

"I work for G-"

"Keep your mouth shut, ya male slut!"

At the same time, all of our head pivoted to the boxes behind Francis. It was funny, because no one could be behind the boxes. They had to be in one of them. _He_, to be exact. The large package labeled "Delicate. Handle With Care," started to move around. The box jittered back and forth until the lid gave way. It was kicked up and out, a black boot in its place.

Out, stepping from of the box, came an extremely handsome man with platinum-blonde hair and stunning red eyes. He had a strange uniform on, kind of like what the Prussians used to we-

"Gilbert?!" I realized. Geez, I must have sounded really stupid with that explanation and not realizing who it was. The man smirked at me.

"Hey, your friend's gotten much smarter, hm?" Gilbert asked Ludwig.

Don't even get me started on Ludwig's expression.

He had already let go of Francis who scrambled away from the muscular man. If eyes could pop out of their sockets, then By God, that's what would have happened to Ludwig. I'm not sure if he was extremely shocked, or, extremely shocked. Pardon my sarcasm. He gaped at his brother. Gilbert rudely imitated Ludwig's expression.

"You…" Ludwig pointed, wide-eyed. "You-"

"What, you didn't expect someone so sexy to be trapped in a small, cramped box?" Gilbert shot back slyly. Francis was flustered.

"It was your idea!" He reminded. "You wanted to keep an eye on everyone."

"But at least I kept my eye on them."

"But now we're both surrounded."

"Ah."

Gilbert scratched his head, thinking of something to say. So, this was Ludwig's brother. The man who got Ludwig to shut up in three seconds. Man, I'm the presence of a legend!

"By the by, what brings you here?" Arthur asked. Gilbert straightened up, his chest puffing out in a stupid, cocky way. Actually, it reminded me of myself.

"Why, to ask you to join my rebellion, of course!" Silence. Gilbert rolled his eyes. "Y' know? It's called 'The Rebellion of the Awesome Me.' Pretty badass name, in my opinion."

"At the Rebellion Camp," Francis interrupted, leaving a shocked Gilbert to mope in the background, "we call it The Newborn Rebellion. Ever since Ivan attacked the United States, he's hit other countries as well. Since the Motherland is one of the oldest countries, we call ourselves 'Newborns'. We're up against the 'Adults'. That includes Ivan, Sadiq, Berwald, Natalya, and our most annoying Adult, General Winter."

Sadiq? _Berwald?_ Why did I never pay attention to everyone's real names, dammit! And General Winter? Who the hell was he? And I didn't ask, just so I didn't sound completely stupid. Thank God Francis listed the territories Ivan had as of now.

"That means he's got Turkey, Sweden, Belarus, and the winter cold on his side," Francis continued, ignoring Gilbert's annoying whine, "which is _not_ good. And another thing." Francis bowed his head slightly. He looked concerned. "Ivan's got prisoners. He's taken some very important people from us."

I looked over to Gilbert. He stopped whining, and the playful aura around him faded. He didn't smile for a long time afterwards.

"We need to get to China."

Ludwig had brought this up fairly abruptly. He were all driving along the coastline of Qingdao, making our way north to Beijing.

"China?" Gilbert asked, barely turning his head while his hands were preoccupied with the steering wheel. "The country or person, bro? Sorry to break it to ya, but we've been in China for-"

"The person," Ludwig cut in, twitching with annoyance. Ludwig, Matthew and I sat in the back of the car, Arthur crammed in the very back, expressing his discomfort by whining as Gilbert had. Matthew's head resting on my shoulder. France sat in the passenger's seat, looking glum, not saying a word. Gilbert put his shades on as the warm sun hit our faces. It felt wonderful! Being in an ash-covered area for days really got to you.

"Wang Yao…" Matthew mused, snuggling into his Canadian-red sweater. "Wonder how he's doing?"

"Oh, he's a big shot now," Gilbert snorted. "Rich, practically swimming in money. Say, why do you need to get to Yao anyway?"

"We need another bodyguard for me."

"For both of you."

"Whatever."

Gilbert stayed a bit quiet as I told him about when the missiles came, nodding once or twice to confirm he was listening. Suddenly, there was a ruffling in a jacket that was abandoned on the car's floor.

"Uh, Gilbert?" I asked wearily. "What is that?" And suddenly a little chick popped its head out of the sleeve of the jacket. It chirped, its big eyes fixated on Ludwig. Its ruffled, yellow feathers were pointing out in odd directions.

"Gilbird!" Gilbert said happily. "Come here, buddy!" Gilbird flapped its way clumsily to Gilbert's shoulder, cuddling up on his neck. Gilbert gave a little happy sigh, and continued his gaze on the road. Talk about weird.

"Ok," Gilbert concluded. "Which way to Beijing?"

Beijing was absolutely beautiful.

I hadn't excepted such a colorful, vibrant city. A population of over 15 million, I felt immediately crowded. But that was because I was in such an under populated place for a while. Claustrophobia had already taken over Matthew, who clung to the very distressed Ludwig, his eyes flitting back and forth, trying to cover his blush. There were plenty of shops, I saw a group of American tourists walk past us, but they were pretty distressed themselves. I heard one mumble, "What do we do now? Los Angeles is in ruins!" I gulped. Word was already getting around about- oh, what was I thinking? Of course people would find out! A big drop in the economy always points to America, so I guess this time society took a closer look at the country, and found the Motherland's mark all over it. It send more shivers up my back, even though it was only September. The air was breezy and I forgot about Ivan, I even laughed when Arthur terribly failed at using a pair of chopsticks.

"There's Wang's house," Gilbert motioned with his fingers at a… house? More like mansion. A bit Americanized. There was a perfect row of hedges, cut in the figures of lions, tigers, and bears. Oh my. The roof tiles sparkled like gold in the sun, reflecting almost everything at sight. Now if I could just point that house at the woman's showers…

"Let's get a move on," Gilbert urged. "We need to get back to the camp in no more than a week. And that camp's in Switzerland, boys. It'll take some time."

I followed everyone onto the yellow tiled road (Seriously, what's with this Wizard of Oz obsession?) that led to a huge, mahogany door. Wang made his house look like a fortress up close, away from all the silly figurines in the front. Heck, he even had guards defending the area. They stared at us from the rims of their red-black caps.

"May we help you?" One asked, keeping his eye contact forward. From this perspective, it looked like he was looking at the naked statue of a man behind us.

"Yes," Ludwig replied. "We're here to speak to Wang Yao."

"Xiānshēng Yao is presently busy. Please come at another time." The man kept his naked-statue contact, while Ludwig seemed unmoved.

"We're here on the behalf of Ivan Braginsky," Ludwig said, his voice suddenly changing with a light Russian accent. _Way to go, Ludwig,_ I praised in my mind. The guard's eyes widened, and he took a walkie-talkie from his belt and spoke rapid Mandarin into it.

"Wang Yao would be most honored to see you," The guard shakily spoke with a weird smile.

"Spasibo," Ludwig thanked, and we entered the giant doors.

As soon as the guards closed the doors, I attempted getting a high-five from Ludwig.

"Way to go, dude!" I shouted. Strangely enough, Ludwig smiled.

"You seem to be becoming your old self." I stopped. Years ago, when the stock market crashed, putting me in recession, I vowed to be more serious, more mature. I didn't smile often, and it was only in business, not for pleasure or for family. I stopped acting so stupid, and after changing, sure, people gave me more respect, but it just wasn't the same. Not the same when I ate hamburgers with a straight face, or settling business without an all-out brawl for who gets to name the shipment number. I was more successful, but emptier. Maybe Ludwig had a point. I felt better acting outgoing. It was just me. And more strangely enough, I smiled back to Ludwig.

"I guess so," I shrugged.

"Say," Arthur muttered, "why would the guards let us in if we were Ru-"

"I want to know why the hell Ivan's sending his God dammed men all the way over here, dammit!"

"That's why." Francis sighed. Wang Yao stood in the center of a circular room, his long, brown hair in a loose ponytail, looking looser than ever since his tantrum. He seemed pretty pissed off. I tiptoed to hide behind Ludwig. Too bad Wang eyed me first.

"Alfred? What-what the hell are you doing?! You've sided with Ivan, you bastard!" He clenched his fist and made his way towards us, his billowy red cloak fluttering in all directions.

"It's not what you think, Wang," Ludwig said quietly. Wang stood still now, his expression that of a confused monkey, his lips tightening together. "I lied to get in. We need to talk to you, and if it makes you feel any better, it's about Ivan."

Wang's hands curled into tight fists. I never thought that he'd actually punch Ludwig. Ludwig pressed his fingers around his nose to stop the bleeding.

"Please, just listen, Wang," Ludwig said, his voice wavering ever so slightly. "I'll never help Ivan. I just need some protection to get to Europe. And I know you're the only one who can help." Wang was silent, his hazel eyes glaring at Ludwig.

"Fine." He sulked. "Come with me."

The way I remembered it, Wang was always energetic, and a bit bipolar, too. He had his moments of immaturity, and then there were times where he was calm and collected. He got along with everyone in the Allies, and I didn't mind him, either.

But his relationship with Ivan still shocked me. Wang once stated Ivan enjoyed stalking him, which wasn't strange for Ivan, really, until he clearly stated to Wang he wanted a romantic relationship. Of course, Wang was totally thrown off with his thoughts about Ivan after that. Wang never thought of the Russian that way, although they were very close. I think the relationship really fell apart only a few years ago. And up to this point, 2017, when Ivan is dictator of his own country, Wang felt no obligation to being friends with him. Apparently this infuriated Wang enough to the point that he banned trades with Russia, cut out a lot of money of his pocket. This didn't help his temper, either.

I never remembered a time when Wang got so angry. He led us into a room adorned with more porcelain and china (Get it? It's china, like the glass- Oh, never mind.) figures of generals and other important people. I even saw one of Ivan, but it was scribbled upon and doused in several paints, which had already dried.

"Have a drink." Wang told us, but it was more of an order. I quietly picked up a glass filled with water, Ludwig, Matthew, and Arthur as well. Francis helped himself to some wine. Gilbert refused a beverage. Wang seated himself slowly and mysteriously on a silk-covered couch, resting his arms back, sipping on a cup of imported sake. There was a chandelier swaying above us, a thousand crystals sparkling above us just like the outside of Wang's house. We were all seated on different chairs, Matthew coincidentally having nowhere to sit and plopping himself down next to the flustered Ludwig.

"What do you need, Ludwig?" Wang asked in a bored fashion, draining the rest of his sake. Ludwig folded his arms, back resting on the couch.

"We need a bodyguard. A good one."

Finally, Wang answered with just a smirk.

"Leave it to me, aru."

"Gentlemen. I present to you Kiku Honda. The finest swordsman of the far east."

When Ludwig said "bodyguard", I certainly didn't expect a man not even 5'5" and extremely thin and quiet. Actually, I expected more of an Arnold Schwarzenegger, y'know? But this joker, he had black hair that flowed in front of his face, a straight expression. No emotion, actually. He had deep brown eyes that didn't really pinpoint where he was looking. A delicate katana dangled from his belt, hidden well in its scabbard. He wore a white naval uniform, golden buttons holding everything together.

"Great protector. He doesn't look half-bad, either," Wang reminisced.

"Hello. Pleased to meet you." Kiku said this almost in a robotic way, as if he said nothing else. "My name is Kiku Honda."

"Show me what you can do," Ludwig prompted. Kiku nodded. Everyone was asked to stand back. Wang held his arm in front of Gilbert, who was getting excited and wanted to talk to someone. Kiku stood in front of a vase. It was positioned on a pedestal, coming up to about Kiku's shoulders. He drew his katana, the metal gleaming with perfection. Suddenly, he was on the other side of the vase. The was complete silence for a moment. Then, the top part of the vase slid off. Kiku had hacked the vase in half so quickly, I swear, I blinked and I missed it. Ludwig smirked, clearly impressed.

"Well, now that Alfred and Matthew are properly protected, we can join the Newborn Rebellion."

"Wh-what?" I asked incredulously. We were joining that possible freak show?! No way!

"It's 'The Rebellion of the Awesome Me!'"

"Whatever."

While Ludwig and Gilbert bickered, Matthew sat down again, looking lightheaded.

"You OK, bro?" I asked him. Matthew nodded very weakly. "Wang! Can you fix up Matt? He's lost an eye…"

"Oh, God, Alfred…" Wang answered, truly surprised. Matthew was carried away by a stretcher, his body bobbing up and down slightly.

"Matthew will be better in no time," Wang promised. And that promise was carried out.

Matthew came to our apartment a day later… perfectly healed?

"Nope!" Matthew said, quite cheerily. "Wang- I mean, the doctors implanted a fake eye. Wang told me it was important that we didn't attract attention, and if I had an eye-patch… Well, that wouldn't help, would it? The thing that made me uncomfortable was something about the nerve cable-thingies… I don't know." He rested next to me (A happy surprise for Ludwig), ready to take a well-needed nap, when Gilbert barged into the room.

"Dudes! We gotta go!" Gilbert shouted.

"That was completely unnecessary, Gilbert!" Arthur answered. He was woken from his nap. Francis walked behind him, uncharacteristically quiet.

"You know my Rebellion Camp?" Gilbert asked. "Well, that Berwald bastard's sent some troops there! On Ivan's orders! I'm so pissed I could-"

Wang cut off Gilbert just by walking into the room. He silently assessed the situation.

"Ludwig," Wang called from the other side of the room, "you're welcome to call if there's anymore trouble with Ivan. But him personally. The other countries are your business, and your business alone."

Ludwig smirked.

"Can do, Wang." After nodding, Wang left the room as loud as it was when he entered. Gilbert hassled Matthew awake and tugged on my arm. Kiku, as observant as ever, placed his hand swiftly in between me and Gilbert. Gilbert backed away, smiling nervously and gulping.

"H-hey, I wasn't gonna do nothing…" He said weakly, Gilbird chirping away happily.

Wang was so gracious he actually loaned a private jet to us.

"How'd you get the money for all this?" I asked him.

"… Let's just say, I made a few stupid decisions with my trades." And I left it at that.

Gilbert was first on the plane, calling "shotgun." "There is no shotgun, idiot," Arthur explained, seeming ticked off. "We're receiving a couple of pilots, courtesy of Mr. Yao, and besides I wouldn't take a single step on that plane if you were anywhere near the cockpit."

Gilbert snickered at the last part, that perv. Matthew was last on, struggling with a handful of Chinese trinkets and souvenirs. He tossed them in the seat opposite mine, and sat next to, you guessed it, Ludwig. Francis never left Gilbert's side during the entire flight. Maybe he was Gilbert's bodyguard… Arthur persuaded Kiku to come sit next to him. When Kiku declined, Arthur mischievously said, "Oh, toooo bad. Because I was going to show you my portfolio of cats. Almost every breed of cat, to be exact." Unbelievably, Kiku quickly sat to the left of Arthur.

"I think we've got his weakness!" Arthur whispered excitedly to me. "If this is all it takes, we can control him! Maybe he knows something about Wang that would prove beneficial to us."

I shrugged, looking around at the plane. It had a plain, tan-colored inside, probably not Wang's best jet. As plain as it was, it gave me the best-night's sleep for about a week. The chairs came with an extremely fluffy pillow and blanket (Boy, did I sound gay there…). The moment the plane took off, the moment my head came in contact with the pillow, I was fast asleep.

When I woke up, we were already landing, somewhere in Switzerland, I think Gilbert said. And that's when something came to my mind.

"Gilbert?" I asked him as we left the jet. He turned around, resting his elbows on the railing.

"'Sup, kiddo?" He asked teasingly.

"Why did you make the Newborn Rebellion?" When the words escaped my mouth, I immediately wanted to take them back. Gilbert didn't laugh. Gilbert didn't get angry. There was something new in his eyes. Some sort of realization took him over, and when it passed, it left him… sad. Gilbert was sad. For the first time, he answered with silence to a question.

"Ivan," He breathed, closing his eyes, "has a friend of mine. Locked away like a prisoner. A slave. And we-… I mean, He and I-…" Gilbert sighed. My heart, as cheesy as it sounded, ached for him. He looked like he was in so much pain. He needed someone. And that someone was under the cruel grasp of Ivan. He was probably being beat and harassed as I explained this.

"He and I don't get along much," Gilbert finally answered. He smiled so gently, his blonde hair tousled by the wind.

"But a friend is a friend."

That's when I realized who he was talking about.

Roderich Edelstein.

Austria.

* * *

OMG. Writing Gilbert with a sad touch was hard. Man, I hate to see the guy sad, but it DOES provide a great plot. To sum it up, Gilbert made the Newborn Rebellion to save Austria from the Motherland. As more people joined the Rebellion, Gilbert realized that everyone joined to save someone. And that's what's driving him to save everyone, not just Austria, actually. So, yeah… By the way… This chapter came a little early because tomorrow…*Gulp* Benchmark Testing. Daaammmmiiit….. So that's why. And that's the reason I'd be behind Chapter 4 if I procrastinated to the 7th… Well, see you May… 17th? *Scrolls up* Right, May 17th… Haha, well, the story finally reaches the rising action (Or are we there already?) when the groupies get to the Newborn Rebellion. **Tune in May 17****th**** for the shocking twists, romances, and betrayals as Alfred and friends enter the Newborn Rebellion. **(Felt like sounding epic…)


	4. Chapter 4: Ami

Hello! I'm back with chapter 4! The story's finally getting to the rising action, but nowhere NEAR the end! My favorite genres (Besides comedy, of course) are suspense and tragedy… Oh, geez. There's a lot of tragedy coming up, guys. Just a little forewarning.

* * *

The plane took off into the distance as the last passenger left. Matthew still struggled with his load of souvenirs, desperately trying to keep the bag he packed them in from bursting. We had showered before the plane ride (Ah, the wonderful sensation of hygiene!), and were all dressed in casual clothes. Matthew, of course, wore a Canadian tee and a pair of tan, knee-length khakis. I, regretfully, had to throw away my soccer uniform. I replaced it with a red polo and jeans. My glasses were still slightly cracked. Ludwig kept his clothes, still wearing his forest green coat and army uniform. Thanks, Captain Obvious. Now the bad guys will never recognize us. But the guy claimed he couldn't let the uniform go. Pft. Whatever.

Poor Arthur, he looked like an eager tourist, donning a pair of sunglasses, a camera in one hand, a map in another. He even put on one of those cheesy Hawaiian shirts. Gilbert asked for just a plain white tank top and jeans, like me. Francis and Kiku wore suits, so I came to believe that Francis was Gilbert's bodyguard. We were such a motley crew.

We got our carry-on bags and entered the airport. It was the Zurich Airport, and man, was it something! Windows, cleaned to perfection, sparkled as the sunlight pierced through, the whole airport illuminated just by the natural light. I had to squint to let my eyes get used to the magnificent sight. Giant beams held the windows back, slanting the windows ever slightly.

But it looked amazing. I could still the sign that said "Flughfen Zürich" even though I was on the other side of it. The inside of the airport was elegant, chic, a very cool atmosphere. I was really starting to like Switzerland. I had already heard of the amazing views and tours they offered. When all of this commotion died down, I was seriously considering letting Vash show me around…

But of course, Ludwig, being the idiot he was, decided to shove me because I shortly stopped to recollect my thoughts.

"Look over there," he said. Glaring, I obeyed.

"Vash?" I shouted. That earned me another smack in the head from Ludwig. Keep quiet, was all he told me. Vash rolled his eyes, his blonde eyebrows knitting together in frustration.

"I thought we were only taking _one_ extra recruit, Gilbo," Vash complained. "Not three!"

"Don't worry," Gilbert said, assuring the blonde. "Kiku here's a bodyguard. We're gonna put him on as a Teenager. As for Matthew and Alfred, they're fast learners. Trust me."

Vash glared. We've known each other for a while, but during the past years we drifted. I think because I was so focused on repairing my economy, I neglected Vash's help. He clung to an object almost his own height. It was wrapped in white cloth, tapped down at the sides. It looked pretty heavy, but Vash didn't let on.

"Fine." Vash walked us over to two other people. Their heads were turned away, so I couldn't quite see who it was.

Ludwig, however, looked like he had the life sucked out of him. His mouth drooped in incredulity, his brilliant blue eyes collecting to one distressed point. I cocked an eyebrow.

"Dude," I said. "What's wrong now?" He blankly pointed a finger at the shorter of the two men. "Who's he?" I asked. Ludwig crouched behind his brother.

"Don't tell me he's-" Ludwig groaned. Gilbert smirked.

"Part of the Newborn Rebellion?"

Feliciano Vargas turned around, grinning.

"You betcha."

Feliciano took one look at Ludwig and freaked out. Well first, Feliciano squealed like a hopeless Twilight fanatic. Second, I swear, Feliciano jumped from about 16 feet away and glomped Ludwig. 10/10, bro.

"Doooooiiiiitsu!" He screamed as he collided with the German. Ludwig stumbled back, falling to the floor.

I would have laughed if it wasn't for the death glare emanating from Matthew. I mean, he was angry. It was really uncharacteristic for him, too. If looks could kill, Feliciano would have been obliterated. I diverted my attention and focused on the second man. Wait… I knew him…

"Tony?" I asked him. He turned, giving his trademark perfect smile. "Antonio Fernandez Carriedo." I said, smiling. I high-fived him.

"How've you been, Al?" He asked charismatically. He cut his wild auburn hair, slightly shorter than usual. I shrugged.

"Not bad," I replied. Antonio nodded, staring and chuckling at Ludwig, who desperately clawed at the ground around him, looking for something to hit the Italian with.

"You mentioned something about Kiku being a Teenager?" Arthur asked Antonio. "Might I inquire as to what that meant?"

"There are three levels in the Newborn Rebellion," Antonio stated. "The Newborns are the newest in the Camp, with little to no experience. We focus all of our training with them." Antonio then pointed to himself.

"I'm a Kid in the Camp. The Kids are stronger than the Newborns; we get assigned missions and tasks. And then there are Teenagers," Antonio motioned to Kiku. "The Teenagers are our group leaders and main trainers. Vash is a Teenager, as well and a few others."

"Who are the current Teenagers?" Arthur continued. Antonio cupped his chin in thought.

"I'm thinking Ludwig'll be one, just because Gilbert has too much pride to demote his brother to Newborn… That leaves Vash and some new guy from Denmark."

I nodded and asked a question of my own.

"Where is this camp anyway?"

Antonio smiled mischievously.

"Can't tell you. And for a good reason," Antonio closed his eyes, still smiling, but somehow looked worried. "There's a Russian scout among one of these people. He's exposed himself once, and there's no way he's left this area. It's gotten Vash really tense."

"Ivan…" Gilbert muttered, joining the conversation. Matthew shivered.

"Wh-what do we do, then?" He asked cautiously.

"We leave the airport calmly and casually," Gilbert instructed quietly. "Make no account that we ever noticed the scout. If he pursues us, we're in luck."

"And why would that help us, Gilbo?" Antonio questioned.

"We could imprison him." Vash had stated this so sadistically, I gulped in uncertainty with the idea. "We could coax information out of him. And if he won't talk," Vash lifted his chin, glaring at no particular direction in the distance, "he'll just have to tell Ivan after he explains what's happened to his limbs."

"Vash," Antonio sighed. "That's not helping. But Gilbert's right. We came with two cars just in case Ludwig did decide to bring more people than we bargained for."

Ludwig remained impassive, even after Feliciano's assault.

Antonio drove a red Sedan, and Gilbert had recently purchased a Prussian blue (Get it?) Land Rover. They stood in the parking lot, obviously unused for a while. There was an even coat of dust on the roof and hood. Feliciano used his finger to draw a heart on Gilbert's vehicle. Gilbert wrote "wash me," and when Ludwig wrote "I'm with stupid" on Gilbert's car, Gilbert freaked and shooed him away.

"Get in Antonio's car," Gilbert said through clenched teeth. Ludwig smirked and did as he was told.

I was the passenger in Gilbert's car (Finally away from Ludwig!); Vash, Feliciano, and Matthew piled in the back. Antonio, Ludwig, Arthur, Francis, and Kiku pursued us in the Sedan.

As we drove past the airport, and exited the city, we quickly became trapped in the countryside. It was… incredible. Green grass suggested a healthy mixture of rain and sunshine in the area. Full-grown trees boasted their broad leaves, deer and other animals happily eating them. There were small houses the farther we drove from Zurich. Man, you should have been there! I'm glad Ivan didn't place his harmful hands upon Switzerland, because the place was something out of a dream. Mountains, low and tall, shaped the land, dotted with wildflowers and meadows.

I sighed, resting my head back. Gilbert's Land Rover had a sunroof. Curiously, I opened it to find wispy clouds floating by, disappearing as they drifted in front of the sun. Unbelievable. Just… Unbelievable.

"Vash, you've really got it made here," I commented, resting my hands behind my head. "Thank you," was all he said as we drove for another 30 minutes, stopping in front of a forest. We exited the Land Rover, stretching and yawning. The ride was dangerously relaxing.

"What's this place?" I asked, stopping to stare into the dense overgrowth of pine trees.

"We won't be driving any farther," Gilbert explained. "It's too risky. Anyone could follow a car trail. And that makes accessibility easier, too. We'll walk the rest of the way. Oh, come on, Feliciano, it's not that far!" Sulking, Feliciano walked behind Ludwig.

"You'll like the camp," Antonio said. He seemed very talkative, as usual. "It's got real buildings, no tents or little bonfires. It's really like a small facility. And why is it like that? Because, every once and a while, a few Swedes think it's funny to raid the camp without telling Ivan! They'll get in trouble if they tell him now, though, because they've kept it a secret since the first raid. It's really a win-lose situation. Ivan doesn't know where we are, but we've had to increase our defenses lately with all the plundering and what-not."

"Who's funding this operation?" Arthur inquired.

"Vash, along with me, Francis and Katyusha are happy to fund-"

"Did you just say Katyusha?"

Everyone's attention diverted to Matthew. He looked wary.

"She's Ivan's sister…" He said softly. "Do you… trust her?"

"I trust her with my life," Gilbert said strongly. "She's saved it many times before. She's our main nurse at the Camp. Please, don't treat her like you'd treat Ivan. She loves her brother, but can't stand what he's become, and what he'll be."

And Matthew left it at that. We all sighed in relief when the ringing of Gilbert's phone cut the tension. He answered, lowering his voice.

"Yes? Toris, what's going on? … Oh my God! We're coming. Get Yong Soo and Heracles to Katyusha and wait for further instructions. Just go, Goddamn it!" And with that, Gilbert hung up. "Run," was all he said, and swiftly entered the dark forest. Confused, we all followed him.

"Um…" Was my answer to Gilbert as we ran through the brush of the woods. "Why are we running?"

Gilbert lowered his head, his blood-red eyes piercing through my skull. I looked away.

"Ivan's found out about the Camp," Gilbert muttered, "and he's made sure we wouldn't be using it again."

Gasps spread around the group. Gilbert and Antonio were the fastest, weaving through the dense area like it was nothing. I struggled to keep up, but didn't stop because I was disturbed as to what lie ahead. Were some of the members…

Dead?

Quicker than ever, I followed Gilbert. When we arrived at the outer sides of the camp, broken slabs of stone and wood littered the place. Small fires that ate through the trees were our only source of light in the thickest part of the forest. I noticed a piece of cloth trying to flutter away, but it was snagged on a tree branch. I tore it off and examined it. The Swedish flag.

"Berwald…?" I murmured to myself. I placed the cloth in my pocket for later explanation.

Because now was definitely not the time.

The first thing I noticed in the camp was the magnificent white walls that one of the dormitories boasted. Not a scratch on it.

The bloodstains really showed up on it, too.

The first thing I heard was the vague, ominous moaning from the center of the camp. Katyusha was expertly wrapping a bandage around a young man's wound. He looked about 18 or 19, brown, wavy hair enveloping his pained expression.

"Hold on, Toris," Katyusha cooed softly, her voice as soft and as beautiful as a bird's chirp, "you're going to be fine."

"But Heracles isn't!" Toris argued. "You saw what he did! He held off _five_ Russians! And he's still a _Kid_. But when Berwald came-"

"Sh…" Katyusha whispered calmly. When she was done wrapping up Toris' arm, she kissed his forehead. "Now, go get Heracles. Yong Soo should come over here as well. The buildings are too unstable to use right now…" When she noticed us coming, she stood up, wide-eyed.

"Gilbert!" She exclaimed animatedly. "Why, there are so many people! I didn't expect so many!" Gilbert sheepishly smiled, but he was obviously devastated.

"I'm sorry, Katyu," He said quietly, bowing his head. "It looks like we were too late." Katyusha shook her head firmly.

"You didn't know, Gilbert. It couldn't have been your fault… Please, don't feel bad…"

Gilbert rested on a small boulder, sagging his shoulders and covering his hands with his face.

"… Who's been hurt?"

"Heracles was shot in the leg, Toris sprained an arm, the young Korean broke a few ribs, I believe."

"Get them all to dormitory 3 and take necessary measures there. I need to talk to a few people-"

"Gilbert!" Toris shouted, running back to us. His expression of pain was replaced with a look of horror. "They've taken him! Oh God! Please, help us-"

"Who?" Gilbert commanded, rising to his feet. Toris' eyes widened; his knees buckled.

"T-Tino! Berwald's taken Tino!"

"What!" Gilbert took Toris' arm and dragged him away. The others and myself followed nervously. Gilbert and Toris scanned the edges of the forest.

"They've already left…" Gilbert muttered. He cursed under his breath.

"Damn it!" Vash roared, curling his fist into a ball and punching the nearest tree. A small trickle of blood began to flow down the tree's bark. Vash glared, obviously not feeling the pain.

"Why did we let this happen!"

"There's nothing we can do now, Vash," Antonio murmured, rubbing his temples with frustration. "If it was Berwald, then Tino shouldn't be hurt. Think about it. Those two have always been close. But ever since Ivan took over…"

"If Tino is most likely safe," Ludwig interrupted, "then we can't use all of our anxiety on him. There are other members hurt. They're our priority. I'm sure Tino would do the same thing."

Vash stayed silent, wiping the blood off his wrist onto his pants. He took the object that was wrapped in the white cloth, and removed the pins holding it together. Underneath was… A musket! Vash seemed serious about it, so I kept my mouth shut. I just thought that there wasn't anyone to shoot at, at the moment.

"Come on," He sulked. "I'll introduce you to the Camp…"

Obediently, I followed Vash. Matthew clung to my sleeve like a little child.

Vash led us to a building he called **Dormitory 3**. It was almost like a warehouse, except for the fact that it was the only building left standing. The other dormitories (I guessed there were about four others) were left in ruins; the one in the best shape got its roof blown off. After entering the building, Arthur caught up with us and joined our tour.

"The Newborns, like yourselves, generally work in here. Toris is the Lithuanian; he's a coward but fights for what he believes in. You've already met Feliciano. We took him in after Wang requested it, I'll never guess why…" Vash let out a small, exasperated sigh, and continued, "And the last Newborn, not including you or Matthew, is Im Yong Soo, an impossible Korean. He's always asking be why he hasn't been promoted. He should guess by now that the reason is that he's always in some sort of trouble!"

As we walked through Dormitory 3, I noticed Katyusha leaning over a young man… He seemed to be in the middle of an operation, and that's what scared me. I didn't ask, but luckily Vash noticed my worry and answered.

"Heracles is our ace from Greece. He's pretty lazy, but not when it comes to sharp shooting. Katyusha told me that he himself was shot in the leg. That's what's going on over there."

"So how do you afford all of this equipment?" Arthur questioned. "From guns to surgery tools and food, reparations costs… How can you keep everything so stable and afford it?"

"Wang has secretly loaned us money, even though he claims he's neutral with the Camp and the Motherland. Then there are richer countries like myself and Francis. Sometimes we get donation money from other countries."

"And how do you come about recruits?"

"It's voluntary."

"Do they join for a certain reason?"

"Yes. To save people that are dear to them."

"Why did you join?"

"That's none of your business."

Arthur paused before starting again.

"And where might your dear sister, Lichtenstein, be?"

"I said it's none of your Goddamn business!"

Infuriated, Vash left us standing in the middle of the Dormitory. He exited through the back. Though I thought Arthur would be surprised, he had a grim smile plastered on his face.

"I thought so…" He whispered. Katyusha poked her head from the operating room (if you could call it a room), nervously laughing.

"Oh my, Vash hasn't been too well lately," Katyusha informed. "He's been going through a lot ever since Lichtenstein… Well, I'm sure you understand." I nodded, letting her continue. "Heracles will make a full recovery. We're lucky; the bullet didn't dig too far into his knee, but it'll be a while before he can walk again… And Yong Soo, the young Korean, broke a rib. He should be fine as well." Kaytusha wiped her hands on her pink apron. "But I think we should be grateful. No one was too seriously hurt."

"What about that Tino boy?" I argued. "He's been _abducted_. Shouldn't you be slightly worried?"

"Of course I am!" Katyusha exclaimed. "But Ludwig is right; Tino should be OK. And besides, Ivan has never gone far enough to kill us."

"But what about the hundreds, maybe _thousands,_ of people already dead in America!" I shouted. I steadily raised my voice. "What will we _do_? And not just America! France, Britain, and others! They've been affected, too! Why are we letting this guy just, take over?"

Katyusha sighed.

"I think… Because we're afraid of what Ivan can do. Ivan wasn't always like this, neither Russia. It was a beautiful country; grand, a rich culture. But they had, and have, a fatal flaw." Matthew and I held our breath. "Russia is greedy. No, that's not even the right word… Controlling. That's better. Russia has always been a country where dominance is key. Still, even in competitions, most stereotypes involve Russians wanted to win, and sulking when they lose. Ivan is just like that. A grown-up child…"

As much as I didn't want to believe it, Katyusha was right. Russia _had_ been a controlling country. Ivan wasn't helping much, either.

"Oh, what am I doing?" Katyusha asked herself strongly. "I shouldn't be rambling! Come, I'll introduce you to the other Kids and Teenagers…"

And so we followed. Man, was I doing a lot of following recently.

Matthew's grip had eased on me, and he stopped hunching over. If this didn't sound strange enough, he looked pretty confident. I'm not so sure for what reason… Arthur stuck his hands in his pockets and meandered behind us.

Katyusha lead us to another small group of people. They all sat on different chairs and couches, apparently engaged in some sort of meaningful conversation. The youngest had olive skin and wore a white keffiyeh on his head. There was a band on top of it to hold it together. Another young boy, about 16, had an upright curl and brown hair put untidily to the side. He had a strange habit of shouting "Da-ze!" after every sentence. The tallest wore a black coat and red under shirt. He had dirty blond hair and a funny black cap on the side of his head. He seemed to be the haughtiest.

"All I'm saying, Gupta," the tall man explained, "is that Berwald's a stubborn guy. We can't bribe him to give Tino back. Besides, Ivan probably already knows that Berwald's got Tino."

The boy with the upright curl spoke.

"No way! Berwald's a smart guy, and he wouldn't tell Ivan that he took Tino without orders, da-ze! Ivan would be boiling, and things wouldn't be too hot between them."

"You make them sound like a gay couple," the man in the keffiyeh stated. The tall man snorted and tried stifling his laugher.

"B-but he already has the hots for Tino!" Then he toppled over laughing. Katyusha sighed.

"Mathias, please, you're a Teenager! Set an example for them."

Mathias ignored her and kept laughing.

"Gupta," Kaytusha motioned to the olive skinned boy, "you can take over Mathias' scheduled duties, please."

Well, that seemed to get Mathias' attention. He sat upright, wide-eyed.

"_What_?"

"Since you're so busy loafing around, I believe Gupta is more than willing to _help you_."

It was strange hearing the beautiful Katyusha put so much emphasis on those last words. It scared me, because for a moment, she reminded me of Ivan. But I stored that thought away. Katyusha turned back to us.

"This young boy here is Im Yong Soo. He maybe a bit troublesome, but he'll be in your group. He really is a good kid."

"Call me Yong Soo," he said energetically. He stood up, flinching and holding his chest, held thrusting a hand out to me. I shook it politely.

"I guess we're teammates now?" I asked. He nodded.

"I'll see you around…" He paused for my name.

"Alfred." I reminded.

"Alfred." He repeated, nodding and curtly walking away. I looked to my left, seeing Matthew talking to Gupta. They would get along fine, I thought. Katyusha excused herself to her room. I noticed Heracles, the young Greek, walk past me, and leave the building. Curious, I pursued him. When I left through the exit, I found Heracles sitting on a log, reminding me of Winnie-the-Pooh. He looked like he was pondering something, and if he had a jar of honey, the image would have been complete.

"Hey," I greeted. Heracles seemed to ignore me. After what seemed like a minute, he turned his head. After another tense minute, he answered, "Hello."

"How's your leg?" I asked, but immediately regretted it. He looked at his leg for a long time, seeming to forget me. Finally, he spoke.

"It'll be fine."

"I see." Awkwardly, I seated myself next to him. I plucked a blade of grass and fiddled with it. He turned towards me. I felt his stare, and it was a bit disturbing.

"Would you like to know something interesting?" He talked as slowly as a sloth. I shrugged.

"Sure."

"There's someone in the Camp working for Ivan." Immediate response. And because I was surprised with something so pointless, it took me a second to recall the data.

"_What?_" I stressed, getting up to my feet. "How- how do you know?"

Heracles simply pointed to his forehead.

"Intuition."

"So you're not 100% sure?"

"…Affirmative."

I sighed, sitting back down.

"Wait," I started. "Who do you suspect?"

"I thought you would never ask."

Heracles stood up this time. I suddenly noticed the breeze changing into a hostile gust of wind. A cloud covered the sun, cooling the air. I shivered, but I didn't let Heracles notice. He suddenly bend to my level, coming uncomfortably close to my face.

"You do look like him…" He muttered.

"What?"

"Nothing." He moved closer by a fraction of an inch.

"The person who works for Ivan," he paused, his face becoming grim, "will blow." He eyes narrowed.

"Your." The wind kicked up.

"Mind."

I was so shocked, I fell back from the log. I didn't even hear the name!

"Tell me!" I practically commanded the Greek.

"He is-"

_Thwat._

Something hit Heracles' neck. He stopped his sentence. Within a few moments, he had fainted, his eyes rolling into the back of his head. I ran to his side, shaking his shoulders.

"Heracles!" I shouted into his ear. "What is this?" I slowly removed whatever hit him.

It was… a dart!

And you know what? It had a Turkish symbol on the side of it.

* * *

This was a very long chapter, but I was surprised that I could write it so quickly. You see, being a natural klutz, I went on a field trip from school to the Great Skate. Forgetting I had skates on, I goofed around with my friends. I fell back slowly, and guess what?

I tore a ligament!

Yep, life pretty much sucks now, and my leg's killing me… But fear not! The next chapter won't be delayed by it.

Also, I have more information. I won't be setting any deadlines now because I can crank out chapters faster than I thought now. The downside to this is that I can't really tell when the next chapter will be out, but it won't be longer than a week and a half, I assure you.

I also want to take the time to thank the awesome reviewers and people who have subscribed and favorited my story! You guys rock!

And more random info:

I've been watching Dancing With the Stars lately. I seriously love that show. I watched it a lot when I was younger, but I've neglected it recently. When I found out Evan Lysacek, the most amazing man I know (haven't actually met him…) was going to be in the series, I was so excited! Please! Let's all vote for the hot guy! XD But I love Erin and Maks, too… Nicole is amazing, seriously. Chad's got a lot of potential… Ack! Can't… Decide….

Well, until next chapter!


	5. Chapter 5: Stratégie

I'm back! Firstly, I want to say a quick sorry for the later chapter. I've had a few small family situations, and that's prevented me from finishing on time… (*sweat drop*) But, I'm back and totally motivated. Word.

* * *

I stood up, retreating several feet. My eyes flitted in all directions. I tried not to show it, but fear was slowly enveloping my senses. I was desperate to run away; to get help, but not with Heracles lying limp in front of me. And the Turkish symbol on the side of the dart gave me some background information as to who I had to deal with.

"Sadiq!" I shouted into the forest. "Show yourself, you sick bastard!" It would have sounded heroic if my voice hadn't cracked.

Then I heard laughter. It was cold, intimidating, and unmistakably amused.

"The American has joined this pitiful rebellion? Such a shame…" Then, he clapped his hands, slowly, _mockingly_. I froze. Out of the forest stepped Sadiq Adnan. But the last thing I expected was a well groomed man in an expensive black suit.

"Surprised?" Sadiq asked, smirking. "Ivan likes to keep things professional."

His olive eyes shone with confidence. I suddenly doubted I was alone.

"It's hopeless, Alfred," he continued, stepping closer to me and Heracles. I clenched my fist. "What you've gotten yourself into isn't good for your reputation. This isn't _right_…" He tensed the last word, throwing his head back, placing his hands in his pockets. "Additionally, Ivan's concerned with Katyusha's image. He's trying to win her trust."

"What the hell do you know about 'right'?" I yelled. "All Ivan's doing is making life for Katyusha harder! When will he get that through his thick skull!"

"Ivan's a busy man," Sadiq responded, "and Katyusha isn't necessarily his top priority."

Sadiq knelt at Heracles. My heart gave a little leap when I thought Sadiq was checking for a pulse.

"Will he be OK?" I asked cautiously.

"He will."

After this, there was a tense silence. Sadiq continued to check… Well, he looked like he was inspecting Heracles veins? Oh… Maybe the dart had some kind of venom or a nullifier. I guessed whatever Heracles was hit with, was just something to knock him out. I certainly hoped so. Then I thought about how I had one of the most powerful men kneeling a few feet away from me. If there was ever a time to get information about Ivan, or even the Motherland, it would be now.

"Why did you shoot a dart at Heracles?" I asked Sadiq. He looked up, a smile covering his rough, daunting face.

"Heracles was about to give away some classified information."

"What was it?"

"That's classified."

I sighed in frustration. Where was this going to get me?

"But I'll tell you one thing, boy."

You know that moment when your favorite soccer team makes a goal? Well, I just had that same kind of stimulation, but I kept my "wooting" on the inside.

"Heracles, incredibly, was right about a trespasser in your camp. A "Traitor" we'll call him. This "Traitor", is in fact sending information to Ivan as we speak. Poor Heracles, he thought it was your brother!"

My heart skipped a beat.

"But it's not. It's someone far more cunning."

Ouch.

"Here's another interesting fact," Sadiq waved two fingers. "There are _two_ Traitors!"

…What? There's no way…

"You see, one's the spy," Sadiq grinned. I held my trembling hand. "And the other, believe it or not, is Ivan's boss!"

… Excuse me?

Sadiq continued, "And not Russia's prime minister, no. There is someone else besides the spy. And that person is here," Sadiq paused to pick up Heracles' limp body, and threw it over his shoulders, "and comically enough, that person is, as you would call him, the ruler of the Motherland."

There was a moment, when Sadiq was talking to me, that I just wanted to sit down and think things through. There was so much happening, Sadiq explaining things, I couldn't reason correctly. I felt dizzy, and I didn't want to put up with this anymore.

"Be careful, Alfred," Sadiq spoke softly, "my boss wouldn't like your pretty face to get scarred with one of Gilbert's training sessions."

And with that Sadiq retreated into the dense vegetation of the woods, chuckling.

"Gilbert!" The word rebounded through the walls of Dormitory 3. I almost ran into Yong Soo in the semi-darkness. I found Gilbert seated on a kind of throne. It was imbedded with pearls and lapis lazuli, and the wood around it was polished with a dark stain. A small burgundy carpet led the way to Gilbert's throne. Gilbert himself looked distressed. He rubbed his temples and squeezed his eyes shut.

"Gilbert," I said through heavy breaths. Gilbert looked up, his scarlet eyes intimidating.

"What is it?" He exhaled.

"Heracles was just abducted," I paused, "by Sadiq." But to my surprise, Gilbert stared at me as if he knew what was happening. Turns out, he did.

"Don't remind me," he said.

"So what do we do?" Arthur asked. He appeared from behind Gilbert's throne. Francis and Ludwig accompanied him.

"Well, shouldn't we go after him?" I suggested. "Ivan's already gotten Tino and Heracles. Do you want him to think we're not as strong as we are?"

"No," Gilbert responded. "I'm fully aware of what this means. And I'd go after them. But the problem is our lack of trained members. I'm going to need some recruits staying here to guard the Camp. It's the safest place for us as of now."

"How many were we planning to bring with us to the Motherland anyway?" I asked.

"I was considering about 10 people. But with our small numbers, I'm not sure if that's possible…"

"Well, if I came along, I'm sure I'd be a big help."

"The contrary. I was planning on leaving you here."

"What!" I shouted. "If you haven't realized, I've got a bone to pick with Ivan!"

Gilbert sighed.

"That I can relate to," he continued, "but you're not what I'm looking for in terms of experience. I'm sure there's someone else I can take…"

"Please!" I begged. I was frustrated, tired, and I felt isolated from everyone else. I couldn't let Gilbert win this argument. No way. "I'll carry all our supplies! I'll keep my mouth shut! Just let me come with you!"

Gilbert kept his eye contact with me for a long time. I stared into his hardened, lonely eyes, determined to break through. Finally, Gilbert raised his hand.

"… Alright, alright. You can come…"

"Yahoo!" I yelled, punching the air. Finally, I'd get a chance to rescue all the prisoners and give Ivan a piece of my mind, that bastard. Gilbert stood elegantly from his seat. He motioned to Francis and Arthur.

"You two, come with me."

Gilbert was busy with the preparations for our trek to the Motherland, and I was so excited I could barely contain it. I filled the rest of the day jogging around the Camp with Arthur; he opted to come along, and Gilbert didn't argue. Arthur and I mostly talked about what we'd say to our rescued prisoners.

As we ran imaginary laps around the Camp, I dug the Swedish flag from my pocket. It caught Arthur's eye.

"Where'd you find this rubbish?" He asked defensively, as if having the flag meant I betrayed everyone.

"I thought that if I had it, we could look at it closely. Y'know, maybe there's a clue in it, or something." I tried to get Arthur to see my reasoning, but he just rolled his eyes.

"You're still the same wacko I know, Alfred. Even if to try to hide that with your new maturity. Speaking of which, don't you think the people we knew in the past have changed? Take Gilbert into consideration. Have you seen him so serious, so focused? I wonder the motive behind it…"

I felt like a giant wad of guilt was lodged in my throat. _Roderich, his motive is Roderich. _Of course, I didn't utter a word to Arthur. I didn't want him to ask Gilbert questions, which was something he'd been doing a bit too much of.

Arthur left me to inspect the flag. I sat on a damp boulder facing the Camp. The Swedish flag was blue with a sideways yellow cross extending to touch all sides. For just a cotton flag, it felt unusually heavy… Wait! I withdrew a small knife given to me by the Camp. Feverishly, I cut through the sewing that bound the two pieces of cotton together. I peeled the sides away.

Bingo. It was a map.

It was crumpled, torn on the sides, and folded several times, but when I opened it up, it was clearly legible. My hands shaking with my excitement, I studied the map.

It was… A detailed diagram of Moscow's sewers. This was it! This was our ticket into the Motherland! I was so excited, it took me a minute to calm myself.

But Matthew ended my short-lived victory. He ran up to me, a worried look plastered on his face.

"Brother," he started uncertainly, "I just saw you and… I-I have a favor I want to ask…"

"Shoot away, bro!" I encouraged. He still looked tentative.

"Katyusha gave me this list of groceries. We're going shopping while we're going to the Motherland, but…" Matthew looked like he was about to burst into tears. I urged him to continue. "I don't h-have any pockets! I'm a f-failure!"

I sighed. He was just too cute.

"Of course, I can hold it for now, Matt." I said. Matthew was still very hesitant.

"Oi, Alfred!" Arthur called from behind me. I turned my head while Matthew gently placed the list of items in my jacket pocket, and left.

"Yeah, Arthur?" I asked.

"Gilbert needs you. He's mentioned something about you being," Arthur smiled, "second-in-command!"

"No!" I said incredulously. "That's awesome! But why?"

"Evidently, Gilbert's observed your undying motivation to stopping the Motherland, and he would like to acknowledge it. Now, go on, you lucky dog."

I thanked Arthur, and made my way to Dormitory 3. Second-in-command! I couldn't believe my luck! All because I put up a little argument and ran around the Camp!

Gilbert seemed to expect my arrival, for he was standing only a few feet from the door.

"Ah, Alfred," he greeted, being uncharacteristically warm, "or should I say, our newest Teenager."

I tried to hold back a grin.

"You should know that it was Antonio's idea. He suggested that you should be brought up to the right rank."

"Antonio?" I asked. "Why would he do that."

"Antonio's very fond of you," Gilbert explained, turning around and strode to a table that was waist height, and portrayed the world. It was marked with red, blue, and purple tacks. Gilbert motioned for me to step forward and observe. It was the first time I noticed Gilbert was wearing a sort of crown, and a long bearskin cape. "he talks about you. You're a very formidable country. Can you guess what this is?" He questioned, resting his palms on the edges of the table.

"Uh… A map?"

"Besides the obvious."

"Ok, um… It's showing the outline of the Motherland. My guess is that the red tacks are Ivan's troops, the blue tacks represent us, and the purple tacks, um…"

"Are the reinforcements Wang's sent to me, excellent, Alfred."

I nodded, but my mind suddenly wandered to the map for the sewers. When should I tell Gilbert? Would he get suspicious if I told him I amazingly found it in a Swedish flag? Would he believe me? Well, it's be better than him finding a skeptical piece of paper that fell from my jacket pocket. But now wasn't the time.

"We enter from Kazakhstan. It's the quickest route to Moscow, and there's an unusual shortage of guards there, but that's worked to our advantage. Ivan's troops are concentrated around these areas…" Gilbert pointed to Moscow, and north of it. "Evidently, Ivan doesn't seem to trust Berwald. We take this and breach into the heart of the Motherland. From there, our main goal is to save those prisoners. Ivan can wait, because no doubt there'll be casualties. Once we're ready, we breach the Motherland a final time and rid Russia of its tyrant."

As Gilbert said that, he seemed to be involuntarily clawing the edge of the paper, tearing it.

"Does this strategy sound reasonable?"

I paused. Everything seemed so naïve for Gilbert. I don't… I don't feel like this was his idea. It was a good one, but it wasn't how Gilbert would plan. He would carry on and kill Ivan along with saving everyone.

"Was this your idea?" I asked. Gilbert hesitated.

"To tell you the truth, Matthew thought up most of it," he confessed, going a bit red. "He's brilliant, I tell you. All brains and no bronze. But don't tell him I said that."

Going even redder, Gilbert decided to change the subject.

"A-anyways, we're traveling by plane, to save time."

There went my sewer plan. Not like I'd choose sewers over an air-conditioned jet.

I clapped my hands together, pleased with the plan.

"Great! So…When do we leave?"

Gilbert grasped my palm and pulled me out of Dormitory 3. We were running like madmen, but Gilbert was smiling.

This time, it was haughty, overconfident, and utterly awesome.

"Right now, of course! Because I'm too awesome to wait!"

* * *

I have officially died. *Exhausted*

Yes, even though this chapter wasn't the longest, it was a bit challenging to put together. But since it's summer, I guess I had more time to plan it… Now I'm a week behind…

Sorry for my half-assed attempt at apologizing. Like I said, some family problems cropped up and well, I procrastinated, we could say.

Some random information: I have watched the recorded concert of Muse on my television (Teignmouth, Devon, 2009) over 20 times. I'm obsessed with Muse now, as you can tell by Gilbert's rebellion name…


	6. Chapter 6: Égouts

Gilbert was swift and clever when he chose who was coming with us to the Motherland. He even assigned us categories.

"Organization," Gilbert stated, "is our key into the Motherland. We need to keep everything structured. It'll be less of a hassle when we get there. For example, Ludwig, Francis Vash, you three are very strong. I'll be classifying you as Bronze. Arthur and Matthew are the quickest thinkers. They can get us out of a sticky verbal situation. They'll be the Brain."

Vash rolled his eyes. Gilbert didn't notice and continued.

"Katyusha and Yong Soo are trustworthy when it comes to bandaging and cleaning up any wounds that we may receive. They're the Medics. Last but not least, Alfred and Antonio are our Talentos. They don't fit in any of the categories, so they're our miscellaneous luggage, you could say. But don't think they're going to be a burden. Alfred is very stubborn, very headstrong. Antonio is energetic and positive. The two will be a good psychological boost."

"And you're?" Vash asked harshly.

"The Leader, what else?"

"Ha-ha."

Gilbert hurried us into the jet plane Wang kindly (although reluctantly) loaned us again. He was still hesitant about us going to the Motherland so soon.

Matthew was the only one delaying us. Lately, he was fascinated by any type of flying aircraft. He stared upward at the metal machine in awe.

"Matthew!" I called. "C'mon!"

"Just a sec!" He answered. "This is too cool!"

I smiled, and entered the jet, Matthew behind me in only a minute.

The group sat down and buckled. Gilbert took the chance to remind us about the plan.

"We're entering the nation by flying through Ukraine. That's where the least amount of troops are stationed. This plane is also extremely pressurized. It's that way so we can fly higher and maintain a stable oxygen level. It may be uncomfortable at first, but get used to it. We reach the Motherland's border in two hours."

The pressure in the plane wasn't the thing bothering me the most.

Antonio was a bother. He continually poked my shoulder and looked away when I reacted. At one point his hand trailed in my pocket and I leaped away. He dumped cold water in my jacket pocket, the jerk.

Matthew nestled in the seat next to mine. When our eyes met he gave a sheepish smile. I patted his shoulder.

Arthur sat to my left, gazing into the clouds. He sighed impatiently.

I looked at Matthew again. He seemed more nervous every second get got closer to Ivan.

"It'll be OK, bro." I assured him.

"I know." He said. He turned his head and closed his eyes, no doubt trying to get some sleep.

That's when I heard a very strange noise.

It went _rat-tat-tat _when the plane ever turned left. I tried not to show my concern. _It's probably nothing,_ I thought. _That's not my biggest problem. Gilbert told us we're 30 minutes away from Moscow, so that means we're already in the Motherland. _I shivered.

_We're that close? That close to saving everyone… Man, I'm itching to fight with Ivan…_

The _rat-tat-tat _suddenly ceased. We were turning left, too.

I sighed, relieved. I knew there was nothing wro-

BANG.

ng. Damn. Way to follow my gut.

The left wing of the plane was suddenly alight! The fire licked the windows and threatened to melt the metal around us. We all cautiously unbuckled at stepped backwards to the safe side, not letting the flame out of our sight.

Gilbert gaped.

"Unbelievable…" He mused, tapping his finger to his chin. NOT the proper reaction, Gilbo. "OK, guys, we'll have to land. Pilot!" He directed this to Vash. "Take us down!"

Vash nodded, and in a few moments, we were losing altitude.

OK, not the best way to word that with the hysteria in the plane. We were landing gently.

There. Better.

We landed dangerously close to the Russian/Ukrainian border. So close, in fact, Arthur could see Conscripts along a mountain range through his scope. Of course, we didn't come here to start a killing spree. Our main priority was to save any imprisoned countries. The jet landed smoothly even with the flames engulfing almost half of its body. We were all eager to leave the hellhole, the smoke seeping through the windows. Our group all assembled 50 feet from the burning mass.

Gilbert was last to leave. He walked towards us, his face muscles arranged in an expression of peace. He was barely ten feet from the plane when it _exploded_ directly behind him. He blandly checked his watch.

"Right on time." He muttered. He didn't look the slightest bit troubled that our _only way of getting out of here was blown up in a freaking mound of rubble._

"D-dude!" I stammered, getting to my feet. "Our jet just exploded! It's all a pile of ashes now!"

"Oh, I know," Gilbert murmured, his face straight. He was still checking his watch. "Someone set a detonator."

Silence.

"W-who?" I asked. This was crazy. None of us could have!

"If I knew, he'd be the pile of ashes." Gilbert turned to Katyusha. "Or perhaps it was the lovely lady." Katyusha trembled.

"Don't you dare accuse anyone yet!" Vash roared. "Like you said, it could have been anyone!"

"I'm not," Gilbert argued. "I'm simply making a point. Even the most unlikely could be the Motherland's spy, and not to mention her leader."

"But we don't know if we even took either, right?" Francis, surprisingly, asked. "We could have left them back at camp without knowing."

"But the odds are unlikely." Gilbert replied. "Besides, I have my eye on a few people already…"

Gilbert glanced to Arthur. Arthur snorted, clearly aggravated by Gilbert's assumption.

"But now our plan into the Motherland is screwed, isn't it?" Yong Soo remarked. "If we landed in the Motherland, it wouldn't be a problem, da-ze."

Suddenly, my brain clicked.

The sewers.

That was our ticket into the Motherland! It led straight into Moscow! Seems like the time I took memorizing the map wasn't wasted at all. Of course, to not arouse suspicion, I couldn't tell Gilbert about the map. Especially after the heated discussion about who-was-who. I'd have to tell them about the sewers in a casual way.

"Guys?" I asked. Everyone's eyes darted to me. "I heard about these sewers, and they supposedly lead straight to Moscow. They shouldn't be far from here either."

Gilbert eyed me suspiciously. I gave my best harmless smile. After what seemed like an hour, Gilbert nodded.

"OK. It's a plan."

"Um, Gilbo?" This time, Antonio inquired. "Don't you think Conscripts will be a little disturbed by the burning heap in front of us? What if they call back up?"

"Good thinking. We need to leave now. Now that I think about it, the plane will be a good distraction. Not that I'm praising the person who set the bomb…"

Gilbert led us away from our poor blazing plane. True to his word, several soldiers went to check out the sight. The group was hidden along the side of a low mountain. We were only a mile away from the borderline.

"OK, Alfred," Gilbert said. "Get us to the entrance of the sewer."

I nodded. I knew it wasn't far. We were walking north, against a chilly breeze.

The metal top wasn't difficult to narrow down. Knee-high grass was growing all around. There was a gap in the meadow where the lid to the hole covered.

Vash pried the lid off, tossing it aside. That's when the smell hit us like a ton of bricks.

"Oh, Lord," I groaned, putting my shirt up over my nose. "I'm having second thoughts about this. Is there any-"

"Other way?" Gilbert smirked. "I doubt it. Unless you have coincidental knowledge of another way in."

I gulped, shaking my head. I warily climbed down the rusting iron ladder. It was damp, dark, and suspicious. I couldn't put my finger on it, but it was as if we weren't the only ones down here…

One by one, with Gilbert, again, last in line, everyone crowded against the wall of the sewers, 20 feet below the entrance. With good reason, too. It took only two steps forward to fall into the murky water below us. Not fun.

Gilbert, incredibly well prepared, whipped out a compass.

"We need to head north again." He explained. "OK, let's get a move on."

Like ballerina dancers, we tip-toed silently towards the Motherland. The smell was unbearable, I was very crowded, and the thought of slipping now was a complete nightmare. The fact that I was a major klutz, and the fact Matthew was behind me (another major klutz) did not help.

Gilbert suddenly stopped. I, not knowing of the abrupt halt, squeaked and ran into Ludwig. He gently shrugged me away. I was now balancing precariously on one foot, my hands waving around a bit dramatically. Ludwig calmly pulled me back. Pft, _like I needed help, you big… bighead._

"_Typical_," Gilbert hissed.

"Wh-what?" I asked curiously.

"The sewer's split into two channels. And I have a feeling that this isn't part of the blueprints." He turned towards our confused faces. "I have no choice. We'll have to split. Vash, Katyusha, Matthew, and Antonio, come with me. The rest will go through the right channel. Any questions?"

I raised my hand.

"Uh, yeah. How are we supposed to cross this river of death and horror? We didn't come with a kayak."

"You can wade through the water," Gilbert advised. He smiled slyly. "It isn't so deep."

I muttered a wave of swear words, and placed one foot in the depth of the sewage. Immediately my spine shivered. I was ready to slash through a thousand conscripts. I was ready to tear out Ivan's throat. But no one told me about the ghastliness of wading in hundreds of pounds of moving waste. And hey! Damn you, Ludwig, you and your protective boots. I was wearing a pair of flimsy Converse. The thing about that brand, they have holes on the side.

Of course, Arthur, Francis, and Yong Soo didn't look so hot, either. Ha-ha, actually, they almost looked as pathetic as I did! Wait… That didn't come out right…

"A-ack…" Yong Soo griped, his dark grown hair already in nervous strands of sweat. "This is crazy…"

"How degrading…" Arthur griped, placing his hands on the concrete of the sewer's edge. Francis seemed to bear it, but he was gagging from time to time.

"I can't even remember why we're doing this…" I muttered, standing on the other side. Believe me, I not have looked harmed, but I was mentally _scarred_.

At this point, we all (except, gr, for Ludwig) rolled up our pants to prevent our knee-high soaked pants from becoming waist-high soaked.

"Get us outta here, Alfred!" A new voice literally screamed. I jumped, my face cringing.

"What was that?" I shouted.

"Me!" It called again. We all frantically turned our heads looking for the source of the voice, except for Yong Soo.

"Oh, guys." He said. "It's just my curl."

…_Your curl. It talks._

"That's right!" It shouted, boasting. Arthur's eyes widened momentarily and his shoulders jerked up.

"Um, is this normal?" I asked in a tone that would be suitable for the sentence: "How was your day?"

Yong Soo gave me a "No-duh," expression. Sorry. Apparently, our curls are capable of speech.

"Well, this day has been full of wonderful surprises," Francis commented sarcastically, "but I think we should keep moving. It'd be good if we met up with Gilbert again."

"Right," Ludwig nodded. "Alfred, stop touching Yong Soo's indirect privates.

I was fiddling with the talking hair while Ludwig said this. Two things I neglected at that moment. 1. Curls are connected to a certain 'part' in our body. 2. Yong Soo was blushing as red as a beet.

I instantly let go, blushing myself.

"Sorry," I mumbled, trying to forget the whole incident.

"We've been walking in freakin' circles!"

I pulled at my hair in frustration. It had already been a few hours, and our plans to get to Moscow via sewers had proved to be fruitless. We had ended exactly above where we started. I looked through the metal opening, the soft blue sky turning a metallic gray. By the looks of things, it would either rain or snow.

"Now what?" Ludwig asked me. He had his hands curled around his hips, like a skeptical housewife. I shooed him away.

"I don't know! I'm not the damn leader. C'mon," I started walking in the same direction, "maybe we'll run into Gilb-"

"Oof! Alfred?"

Gilbert! Oh, thank you, thank you, thank you! We needed someone with a plan, and frankly, mine wasn't going too hot.

"We found ourselves here again." Gilbert stated. He looked livid.

"H-hey, calm down." I tried to reassure him. "I'm sure I forgot something. Like maybe there's a secret passage, or something."

Gilbert sighed.

"I'm not sure if it was the right thing to have trusted you, Alfred."

What?

"W-what do you mean?" I stuttered. He didn't trust me?

"Alfred," Gilbert said, dangerously quiet. He held out his hand. "Give me that map. I know you have one. There's no way a human being with your intelligence quota could have found about this coincidentally."

Huh? That's all he wanted? Well, by God, he could have it! I reached in my pocket. Hah, there it is, right-

… A grocery list was the only thing left in my pocket.

- here.

Gilbert stared at me, impatiently tapping his foot. He cocked an eyebrow.

"Is this a joke?" He ordered me to answer. I stood, mouth agape, like a fool. "You don't have one? _Interesting_."

He snarled the last word, ripping the list from my hand.

"Looks like we have our traitor, men." Gilbert proclaimed. I threw a punch at his face.

Bad idea. Made it look like I was trying to make a run.

Ludwig held my arms back. He looked as equally enraged as Gilbert, if not more. Suddenly, he whispered so lowly in my ear, I barely caught what he said.

"You're not the Traitor. I already know who it is." He continued to hold my arms back while Gilbert tried interrogating me, just as Arthur did to Francis.

Francis gave me a "Oh, I've SO been there" expression. At least he looked like he felt sorry for me.

"Tell us, dearest Alfred," Gilbert mused, looking around casually before swinging his hand across my face. "How long have you been leader of the Motherland?"

"I'm not the leader!" I protested. "Hell, you guys know me! I can barely tell left from right! I couldn't even be the spy!"

"Leave him alone!" Matthew shouted. "If he says he's not on the Motherland's side, he's not! Alfred would never lie! Especially to me!"

"Well, it seems as if you haven't truly met your brother," Gilbert contradicted. He turned towards me once again, his red eyes appearing black with hate.

"Now, where were we?"

Immediately after, the wall on the other side of the sewage crumbled away.

Conscripts.

My heart sank. They found us, and we didn't even get close to the country. Ludwig let go of me, reaching for his knife.

"Don't you dare try that," a chilling voice ordered. Literally. I shivered from the freezing edge to his voice. A man stepped forward. His eyes were as dead as his voice. He wore a dark blue military suit, and towered over everyone around him.

Berwald Oxensti-… Oxenstia-… O. Berwald O.

'O', crap.

"Keep quiet."

The guards were extremely formidable. I didn't know what Berwald did to make them this way, but it wasn't anything noble. We entered a holding facility for intruders, as it seemed. There was only one other prisoner was a small boy.

"I won't stay here forever! I'm here to save everyone! I don't need any help!"

"Shut up," One of the guards commanded, shoving the boy away from the front of the cell. The cells. Not a picture of health.

The cells were bleak, the cool air floating from outside chilled me. And guards. _Everywhere._ I didn't understand why they needed so many. It's not like they arrived with us. They were here before us. Maybe they expected us to get captured?

Of course, there's no way one little brat could be so much trouble… Could he?

Suddenly, the boy punched through the iron bars, ripping them apart like they were toothpicks.

"Rocket Punch!" he shouted.

Holy… Cow.

That's when he made a run for it.

He tore past half of the guards, going at least 60 mph. Until Berwald stood in his way. The boy… He just stopped. He quivered, looking into Berwald's lifeless eyes. Then he just turned around. He abandoned his chance to get away on those incredible legs. He sat back in his cell, sobbing. I couldn't believe it.

"Peter," Berwald muttered. "Do not oppose me again. I will not show mercy. I put you here for a reason. You are dangerous to Ivan. Do not do that again."

No emotion. He acted like he was talking to a stranger. Peter heaved loudly.

"Y-yes, daddy."

Wow. How ironic.

How could Berwald treat this boy this way, his son? I wasn't sure. I didn't even know Berwald had a son. Why was Peter locked away? Why was he against his father? Berwald noticed my disbelieving expression.

"He is no one. Your cell is there. The rest will follow me."

I hesitated. I was going to be separated? With all these guards, and that freakishly strong boy? A conscript came by, handcuffed me, and threw me into the cell. I landed on my side, gasping in shock. I sat up to watch the iron bars close, Peter in the cell opposite me.

I also noticed dents on my cell's bars. Peter was so strong, he would punch through not only one set of bars, but two.

Ah, that was Berwald's plan. He knew his son wouldn't want to hurt me by trying to escape to save himself. With Peter powerless, most of the conscripts left the building, the majority heading to the borderline.

I looked at Peter through the iron gate that kept me back. His sobbing stopped, but he looked like he was in a state of shock.

"Peter?" I asked? He jumped, surprised.

"You know my name?"

"I overheard. Why is your dad doing this to you?"

"My dad doesn't love me. He bought me off EBay."

I paused.

"And why did you auction yourself on EBay?"

"I thought someone would notice me. Everyone forgets me! I'm sick of it. I thought if I put myself on EBay, a really powerful country would come along and train me. But no one did, except for Sweden. But he doesn't even care."

Peter started kicking around lonesome rocks. I sighed.

"How are you so powerful?"

"I'm made out of steel."

OK… Not that I couldn't believe him. The way he ripped through the bars was plenty evidence. I thought about Peter's ability. If he could punch through walls, maybe he could save himself, and get help. I could tell him to run to Switzerland. But the problem was, he didn't seem to be able to control his energy.

"Now, how powerful are you?" I rearranged my words, and that puzzled him for a moment.

"I think really powerful. I mean, I can punch through a lot of things. I once punched a diamond in half. But it scratched me, and it was a tiny diamond."

"OK, OK," I said, cutting him off. "So you're really strong? All we need to figure out is how to control some of that energy so you don't end up killing me."

"Don't worry," Peter assured, to my surprise. "That man sitting behind you told me how to."

Instantaneous 180 degree spin. There indeed was a man. He sat, legs outstretched on the cold dirt floor. His pants were dirty and ragged, and his shirt smelled of a strong alcohol. His snow blond hair was patched in sweat in front of his eyes. His violet stare intimidated me, but his million dollar smile was eerily promising.

I felt like I knew him. I knew this stranger.

"You became a country of independence, you are the richest country in the world, you influence all four corners of the planet, yet you rely on a little boy to save you, da?"

Da? DA?

"That man is nice to me," Peter said, matter-of-factly. "He is nice, and he's going to get us out of here one day."

He is Russian.

"Unless the guards bring me more vodka. I could stay here, then. It would not be so bad. After all," He grinned, leaving me stunned, "I am Ivan Braginsky. There is nothing I cannot do."

He is Russia.

What was the leader of the Motherland doing here!

* * *

I would like to say thank you to everyone who continued to read my story. I had a very stressful month, and this chapter ties a lot of important plot pieces together. And guess what? I got my writing mojo back! I'm now motivated once again.

By the way, I have a new poll on my profile page. Please check it out!

Sealand is here! Surprised? I sure was. I didn't even plan on putting him there, but I decided I like using all the characters in the story, so why not? After all, he's made out of STEEL. How can you not find that cool?

And to any Kiku fans, do not fret. He will make a stunning reappearance! Same with everyone else. I'll try to give every character a role while keeping the story on the tracks I want it to travel upon.

Okey-dokey, see y'all next time.


	7. Chapter 7: Sortir

I couldn't believe it. He was here. That no good son of a bitch was right next to me. The living, breathing dictator of the Motherland. I could kill him here and be done with it. But that's what was bugging me. What was here doing here in the first place? I expected a towering man in a tan military suit, but I get a drunk who gives the impression of any lowlife on the streets of a city. Disgusting.

Oh, wait. I forgot. He wasn't the leader, supposedly. So I guess the real head of the country didn't need him anymore.

Ivan was able to deduce my expression with one look.

"Confusing, no?" He said vaguely. "Tossed like trash." He took a swig of his alcohol before continuing. "The leader is brutal."

"Who's the real leader?" I asked, anxiously wanting to know who was behind this.

"I do not know. In the beginning, I really was the leader. I made trades with many countries. It could have been any of them. Then suddenly, Berwald drugged me and sent me here. He only told me that he does not take orders from me anymore. I was set up, and here I am."

He gestured at himself with his hands, alcohol bottle still in his hand. I stood up, sitting on the flimsy bedding in the corner of the cell. I hugged my knees, letting the information seep in.

"How long has he kept you here?"

"A week."

I sighed. It was unluckily reasonable. It had been about a week since the attack in America… I looked over to Peter. He was sitting on a fragile wooden chair. The chair creaked every time he kicked his legs back and forth. I looked back at Ivan.

"How long has Peter been stuck here?"

Ivan's face lost its careless expression. His look was grim, regretful.

"Since the day Berwald adopted him."

"What?" I stood up from the bed, completely stunned. Since the day…? But the last time we talked about Sealand in the world meeting was years ago! Berwald brought up the subject… In 1942? '43? That meant…

"Peter's been stuck here for 70 _years_?" I shouted, raising my voice at each word.

"74," Ivan corrected, looking at Peter with sympathy. "Yes, ever since Berwald came along and adopted poor, lonely Peter, now sentenced to a lifelong imprisonment. Pitiful, is it not?"

I glanced over at Peter. He looked puzzled, like he was missing something. Suddenly, he spoke up.

"Ivan, Alfred…" Peter muttered. "Does daddy… hate me?" Ivan rolled his eyes, sighing.

"He certainly does not care."

"Then why'd he adopt me?" Peter cried, a tear streaking down his cheek. He wiped it away, sniveling.

"That is something we may never know," Ivan mumbled, finishing what seemed like his sixth bottle of vodka. I sat silently, listening to Peter's newfound sobs. The atmosphere of distress hung thickly. I lay down on the stiff bed, collecting the details. Peter has been stuck in his cell for 74 years, he was adopted by Berwald, and Ivan used to be Leader, but was imprisoned by the true Leader…

It's like this man, the Leader, had been planning this. Like he knew Peter was incredibly gifted, like he knew all the Motherland's allies well, like he was clever enough to capture most of the world…

And suddenly, things just clicked together slowly. I had a strange impulse to ask Ivan a question.

"Which countries did you trade with?" I practically ordered the Russian. He sighed, closing his eyes halfway, recalling the names.

"Once and a while I traded with Poland, although he hates me. There was you, your brother, the dim Englishman, the sultry- I mean the romantic Frenchman, Germany, Spain, and Wang."

I noticed how Ivan only said China's formal name. So, it all came down to seven suspects, not including myself, of course.

Poland… Feliks! Hm, not that I didn't like Feliks, but he wasn't really Motherland material. He's hated Russia since, well…

I was surprised when he mentioned my brother. Matthew was always wary around Ivan, even with Kumajirou guarding him. Speaking of the polar bear, where was he? Well, it'd be best to keep my guard up, even though I wouldn't pick Matthew out of all the suspects.

Arthur… Hm… That's strange. Gilbert doesn't seem to trust him. I wonder…

… Francis? Please, Francis couldn't stay sober for half a day. I doubt he'd be reasonable enough to run a country.

Ludwig. That scared me. I didn't necessarily like him, but I trusted him. I'd be shocked if he was betraying us.

Antonio. I don't know him especially well, but I couldn't picture him ruling such a place.

And Wang. Wang helped us this far, but perhaps it was just to get us in the Motherland?

All this information was a bit much to take in at once. I had my suspects… But how would this help me now? I was stuck here, and I wouldn't be able to pursue anyone to see if what I've learned is true. Unless…

"Peter," I beckoned. Peter look up.

"Yeah?"

"If you're made of steel, you can punch through steel. That's the logic, right?"

"… Yeah?"

"What I mean is, we can get out of here. All you need to do is break out of your cell, and break mine."

"Ours," Ivan corrected.

"Yes," I agreed, "and we can get out of here."

"Unless they bring more vodka." Ivan butted in once again. I glared.

"Whatever. So, why don't you try controlling your power to the point were you only break your cell?"

Peter shrugged. "I'll try." He stood up, examining the iron bars, and pulled his arm back.

And then, glorious! He punched the cell!

… He punched the cell. No, that's all he did. It didn't scatter into a million pieces like I'd hoped. Peter clutched his fist in pain.

"Ow ow ow!" Peter yelped.

"Hm," I muttered, disappointed, "try again, and this time, not so much controlling."

Peter nodded, embarrassed. This time, he closed his eyes, breathing evenly. Ivan stood up, rubbing the dust off his pants.

"What are you doing?" I asked him. He pointed to Peter, who had successfully left his small cell, coughing in the cloud of dust he created.

"Way to go, Pete! Wait… How did you know?"

Ivan pointed to his forehead, grinning. "Intuition."

I felt my heartbeat waver.

"Heracles!" I shouted. "And- and Tino! Everyone! We've got to go save them!" I felt useless then. Completely useless. I was sitting here, thinking about my impossible obsession with finding the leader of the Motherland, when I came here to actually do something in the first place. I wanted a punch in the stomach.

"Not so fast," Ivan said. "I can understand why you are so desperate to save those countries. It runs in your blood. You have an impulse to do righteous things. It is very brash, and dangerous."

"Why are you telling me what to do?" I asked, my disgust with Ivan turned on full blast. "You're the one who started it all! I can do whatever I please!"

"Let me explain," he coaxed, sitting back down. Peter was busy curving the iron bars on our cell like he was pushing away curtains.

"What are we waiting for?" Peter inquired. Ivan motioned for him.

"Go bend the bars back," he ordered.

"What?" Peter whined. "It was really hard to-"

"Just do it," Ivan sighed. "There are guards coming. We can plan and look inconspicuous."

Although I hated to admit it, he was right. Two conscripts were heading our way; I could already hear their footsteps echoing, getting louder. Reluctantly, Peter arched the bars back to their original state. The guards passed without even looking our way. Ivan took the time to recollect his thoughts.

"True, I created the Motherland. In a tribute to Mother Russia…" Ivan clarified, looking regretful. "As the empire grew, so did my notoriety. I was thrilled to have my name known across the world again. Since the fall of the Iron Curtain, I felt extremely neglected, you could say. I conquered other countries to build my new country."

"That doesn't make you _good_," I said coldly. "But I see what you mean. In the beginning, you didn't necessarily want to kill off countries, just control them. Oh, _joy_," I said, throwing my hands up in exasperation.

"I am not finished, Alfred," Ivan said, scratching his growing stubble. "After I controlled Sweden, Belarus, Turkey, and even General Winter himself, my power grew and grew. I suppose this targeted the interest of a certain country…" Ivan referred to the new leader of the Motherland. "This… Man, I am assuming, became fascinated with my power. Obsessive, it seems. He must have won over the countries I conquered into working for him, and I was overthrown. Putting this all together, the man must be very persuasive, da, very charming."

I considered this. Who was the person who could win over another's trust easily? Feliks was only persuasive to a few countries, I doubted he could influence them all. Matthew is hesitant, so he's ruled out. Arthur isn't necessarily persuasive. Francis… He is seductive, I'll give him that, if that's what Ivan meant. Ludwig could force someone into helping him. Antonio is a very trustworthy man, so maybe… And Wang…

Wait… Wang… He…

"He was in love with you!" I shouted. Ivan was slightly startled, but Peter jumped instinctively like a cat. "Wang! Wang Yao!"

Ivan sighed.

"It would seem so…" Ivan mused. I continued.

"And now, now Wang's really got a bone to pick with you." I realized. "I mean, he helped us get here in the first place. He's got a lot of power, not as much as you, so maybe he got jealous after your affair ended?"

"Possible," was all that Ivan muttered.

"It makes sense, doesn't it?" I asked the Russian. "Yeah… Yeah, Wang's the leader! He's got to be! Nobody else fits in so perfectly!"

"Do not judge the artist by the picture," Ivan said. "It is the details that make the difference. It may not be Wang at all. I doubt it. He has too much nobility for his country."

"But… but…" I stammered. I thought I was dead on. I was sure of it.

"We cannot decide who is who yet," Ivan continued. "We do not know enough to decide."

I stood up, frustrated again. Peter checked to see that no guards were making their rounds this way. He bent the bars again, getting used to controlling his strength. He lightly stepped out, followed by me, and the amazingly sober Ivan after a pint and a half of vodka.

"Ok, let's leave this joint," I said coolly.

"_Not with Vanya, you do not."_

What the hell…?

The voice came out of nowhere. Peter, suddenly alarmed, put his fists up like a boxer. The three of us stood back to back, leaving a foot of space in between us. The lights abruptly shut off, leaving a dark void where prison cells and dirt floor was before. And strangely, I could feel Ivan shaking next to me. I never saw… Well, felt him like this. He was supposed to be the man without feat. What happened to that?

Then I realized. There was a glistening object held close to Ivan's throat. Well, of course it was a knife. But two things that sort of bugged me.

One, Ivan was having a sort of silent fit. It was like he was paralyzed and trying to get away. The Ivan I knew wouldn't cower so obviously, if he would cower at all.

And two, the knife somehow was held behind him-

Oh my God.

Instantly Peter and I jumped away, grasping the situation. The person, whoever it was, silently entered the space in between our circle. Since we were facing away from the center of the circle, we wouldn't have noticed the figure slip into the picture. How he did it was something I would never understand.

"Touch Vanya, and I will kill you," the voice growled. It seemed to be a woman.

Ok… There was only one female (human being, for that matter) that showed affection for Ivan besides Katyusha.

"N-Natalya," Ivan stuttered. "This is unnecessary."

Natalya held the knife closer to her brother's neck.

"Nie, Vanya, this is very necessary. I cannot let them take you away."

"This is my own choice, Natalya," Ivan said, calming himself down. "I wish to go with them. Do it for me."

"Nie!" She opposed, her voice raising an octave. "They are fools! They want to hurt you, dearest Vanya. I will not allow it. Come with me, and we can be happy together."

I stood in the darkest, letting my eyes adjust. I didn't move for fear of Ivan's extreme sister. She would think I'd try to hurt 'Vanya'. Ivan forcefully moved Natalya's hands. He clutched Natalya's hand until she cried out in pain. The Belarusian seemed formidable, but was weak compared to her older brother.

"Не угрожать мне, как это еще раз. В следующий раз я не буду удерживать на мое наказание."

I was sure, even though I didn't speak Russian, that Natalya's eyes widened at his tone of voice. He wasn't joking. The lights suddenly flickered back on, and I got my first look at Natalya in years.

She hadn't really changed. She still wore the same deep blue dress and white apron. Her hair was like light gold, dropping to her back. And of course, she still had the knife in her injured hand. She glared at me, obviously thinking I wanted Ivan to myself. But when she looked back at Ivan, her eyes were filled with hurt.

"Ваня, я хотел только-"

"I do not care anymore," Ivan roared. He stood closer to Natalya, frowning at her with furious violet eyes. "Do not come to me ever again. Unless it is something good."

"Vanya," Natalya pleaded, tears in her eyes, "Vanya, please…"

"Enough," Ivan interrupted, holding a hand up. "We are finished."

Ivan began walking toward the metal doors enclosing us in the prison. He opened the door, and a chilly breeze settled around us. Peter and I quickly left, leaving Natalya on her knees, muttering disturbing Russian words in my direction.

Oh my! This chapter was slightly boring, but not the worst. So now we have our suspects, some more suspicious than others. Of course, it's up to you to make up your mind now, or wait until later chapters to find out. Believe me. You won't get it right the first time.

… Well, maybe you will. But it's highly unlikely! Now, be good followers/subscribers/yaoi addicts and wait for the next chapter! Ciao!


	8. Announcment

To all my fan fiction readers,

I'll try to keep the announcement short and sweet. My grandmother has had a tumor for three years, and lately she hasn't been doing well. She's back in the hospital now, and I've been a bit down lately. Therefore, my writing has suffered because of that. Traitre will be on hiatus for some time. I apologize, I'm not able to give an exact length of time. It shouldn't be too long, though.

Thank you for understanding,

MariSenpai/Julia


	9. Chapter 8: Idée

Chapter 8, finally… I really took some time into planning everything… Ug… This chapter was hard to write! Well, I still love to write this…

* * *

Stockholm, The Motherland

Arthur felt his hands being bound by twines of rope. He was blindfolded, and he knew he wasn't in the original Russia anymore. The guards spoke in a different language, Swedish, Arthur decided. The smell of gasoline and smoke hung thick around him. He could feel the van (Arthur assumed) driving along roughly.

Arthur felt tight and uncomfortable. He'd most likely been drugged and transferred to a different holding cell. He suddenly wondered if anyone else from the Newborn Rebellion was with him.

"H-hello?" Arthur croaked, his throat dry.

"Quiet," the driver commanded. Arthur suddenly felt something rustling beside him.

"Arthur? That you?"

"Yong Soo?"

"Y-yeah," he muttered, keeping his voice low. "I was drugged."

"Me, too," Arthur said. "I think they're relocating us. I'm fairly sure we're in Sweden. The guards have an accent and… They're speaking the language, too."

"What you we do, then?" Yong Soo asked. The van stopped, and the two heard the backdoor of the vehicle unlock.

"Stay silent," Arthur whispered. Arthur's blindfold was roughly ripped away. He squeezed his eyes from the sunlight. He and Yong Soo were pushed outside and were relieved of their binds. The guards continued their forceful shoving, shepherding the captives into a nearby building. The residents of Stockholm looked at them pitifully. A couple dressed in filthy rags stared at Arthur. He realized Berwald cared about his people as much as Ivan did.

The building the two entered was dimly lit but lavishly furnished, gold linings on the walls and expensive furniture. And in the very end of the room was Berwald.

He sat impassively. Arthur couldn't tell whether the superpower was content to see him captured, or just plain irritated. Berwald adjusted his glasses and stood from his seat.

"They're finally here," he said. The glint in his eye was cold; he looked at Arthur almost sadistically. "Lock them up. I have some business to attend to."

_That was it?_ Arthur thought, _that was all he wanted?_ Frustrated, Arthur and Yong Soo were lead away. Yong Soo looked hopeless. His head drooped, his walking slowed. Arthur said the only thing he could say.

"It's going to be alright. You'll see."

Katyusha, Francis, and Vash were not far away. To be accurate, they were next to the holding cell Arthur and Yong Soo would stay in. Katyusha shivered, clutching her arms.

"Wh-why are we here? Where are we?" She stuttered.

"Berwald's orders, most likely," Vash said gruffly. "He'll keep us here until we die and our bodies rot away-"

"Eek! Stop that!" Katyusha screamed. At that moment, the guards busted through the doors, holding Arthur. He was beaten and bruised, his shirt half unbuttoned. His lip bled on the floor. He was thrown into the next holding cell. Arthur crumpled from the thrashing, barely having enough energy to look back at the guards. Katyusha stared in disbelief.

"O-oh my God…" She whimpered, holding her hand to her mouth. Arthur looked at Katyusha through the bars, and smiled slightly.

"Guys," he whispered.

"Don't talk!" Katyusha ordered, finally regaining herself. "You're too badly hurt. Go lie down." Tears left her eyes. "I'm so sorry I can't help."

Arthur limped to the only bed in the cell. He lay still, his breathing returning to normal. The room was silent. Francis had only been observing scene, and still couldn't believe what he'd witnessed. Vash's eyebrows knitted together in bitterness. He turned his head away, cursing silently. Several minutes passed. Moaning and wailing could be heard from the other room. Arthur smiled.

"I lied."

Katyusha stared at Arthur, unsure of what he was saying. Arthur sat upright.

"I told Yong Soo it was going to be alright."

A crack of a whip.

"I was wrong."

Screaming.

"So… So…"

"Please! Oh God, stop!"

A gunshot.

"Wrong."

Moscow, The Motherland

Gilbert finally came to his senses. He knew he was in a room, and there was no light. It was fairly small, because he kicked his legs around (he was tied to a chair) and hit against the walls of the room. His head was swimming, he'd been hit on the head and send to another part of the city. His hands were tied behind his back.

"What the hell is going on?" He asked himself.

"Gilbert?" A familiar voice asked. It was Matthew! He'd been tied behind Gilbert, sitting in another chair. Gilbert breathed a sigh of relief.

"Thank God…" He muttered. "We can get out of this, OK?"

"OK…" Matthew replied.

"There's a door in front of me," Gilbert said. "I'm sure we can break through it once we're untied. They turned off the lights so we can't see our surroundings. Luckily, they didn't think about our eyes adjusting!"

Matthew smiled, although Gilbert couldn't see. "I get it! We can wait a few minutes, and look around if we can find anything sharp!"

And so they waited. Five minutes. 10 minutes. Gilbert turned his head, and could easily identify Matthew's blond head in the semidarkness.

"OK, we're ready," he said confidently. "See anything we can use?"

The duo's eyes scanned the room. Matthew gasped.

"A knife! It looks sort of dull, but I think it'll work."

"We can use that!" Gilbert agreed. "Try to see if you can reach it."

"Already got it," Matthew answered. He began sawing away at his bounds in the dimness. After several agonizing minutes, Matthew successfully freed himself. He started cutting Gilbert's rope apart.

It worked, and the two were standing up, stretching silently.

"Alright, now we can bust out of here," Gilbert said. He faced the door. He could make out the handle. He tried to open it, but it was no use.

"Of course it's locked, Gilbert," Matthew stated. "We'll just have to find a key, or knock it down. Wait… Forget that last idea. The guards might hear the noise."

"Right," Gilbert replied. "Oh, there's a flashlight. Let's try it out."

The flashlight was dim, but it helped enough to illuminate some of the room. Gilbert was right; it was very small. Maybe only a few meters by a meter or so. There were dusty shelves and the ground was littered with Russian newspapers.

But on the other side of the room was another door.

Cautiously, Gilbert and Matthew moved towards it.

Gilbert's hand clasped around the doorknob.

It was unlocked.

Throwing the door open, Gilbert was smiling broadly.

So was Sadiq.

Minsk, The Motherland

"Oh…" Ludwig groaned. He regained consciousness. He stood up, rubbing his aching back. _Where am I?_ He wondered. _I'd better keep my guard up._ He reached for his gun. It wasn't there. Neither was any of his other equipment.

"What the hell…?" He said angrily. He was trapped in a corridor. There were several rooms, all the doors on the right side of him. The corridor was dimly lit; Ludwig could only make out the first few doors, although the hallway seemed to stretch on for a while in both directions. Next to him, he felt movement.

Antonio had been sent with him.

"L-Ludwig?" He grunted.

"Yeah," Ludwig answered, becoming uneasy, "yeah, it's me. Get up. I don't like this."

Antonio stood warily. He looked like he was weighed down by something. Ludwig was sure it was a sedative Antonio was given. Ludwig's head spun. He assumed he was put under the same thing.

"Let's keep moving," Ludwig commanded, trying to keep a level tone.

"This could be a trap," Antonio muttered as he walked with Ludwig. Ludwig's pace rose to a jog; Antonio followed.

"I mean," he continued, "we could be running straight into an ambush-"

"Quick," was all Ludwig said. In no time, Ludwig and Antonio were sprinting through the corridors. After 10 minutes, Ludwig stopped, Antonio clumsily running into him. They two men were breathing hard.

"This doesn't make sense," Ludwig heaved. "The corridor should have ended by now." He walked up to a door.

"W-wait!" Antonio shouted. "You don't know what's behind there!"

"That's not what I'm checking." Ludwig ran his hand along the width of the door.

"Interesting," was all he said.

"What?" Antonio questioned. He stood closer to the door.

"This door," Ludwig started, "this entire corridor. It's bent slightly, We've been running in circles."

Antonio's expression was remarkable. He felt the door, not believing a word that came from Ludwig's mouth.

"Why…?"

"Because they assumed we wouldn't want to open the doors. Any normal person would keep running, and stay away from anything they weren't entirely sure about. They wouldn't notice this small, insignificant curve in the walls."

"What do we do, then?"

"Simple. Let's open up a door."

Antonio gulped. He stepped away, watching Ludwig clutch the door handle. It creaked as the door opened. Ludwig almost immediately shut it as a blast of hot air hit them.

"Damn," he muttered, "they've set the room on fire."

Ludwig tried the next door, but it was all the same. Every room was alight. Only by the fourth room did Ludwig realize they weren't separate rooms.

They were all one large room. And the fire inside was growing.

It wouldn't be long until the fire reached the doors and melted away the hinges, and it would take Ludwig and Antonio with it.

"Then they're just messing with us?" Antonio asked drearily. Ludwig was silent, staring at the doors.

"It's a test." He explained. "They wouldn't make such an interesting room for no reason…"

"Well, I have no idea what you're talking about…" Antonio sighed. He sat against a wall opposite the doors. "You should have been a Brain. You're figuring this all out fairly well…"

Ludwig's hands continued trailing along the walls.

After minutes of observing, Ludwig turned to Antonio.

"I've got an idea. There's a way out of here."

* * *

This chapter was slightly shorter, but I really just wanted to explain where the other characters were. Thanks for reading, and read on! J My grandma is doing better, if you were wondering!


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